


Folie A Deux

by My_Trex_has_fleas



Series: Folie A Deux [1]
Category: Poldark - All Media Types, Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood and Gore, Bloodplay, Dark, Dark!Jim, Dark!Ross, Explicit Sexual Content, Knifeplay, M/M, Married Couple, Murder, Object Insertion, Violence, graphic description of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 70,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5314694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Trex_has_fleas/pseuds/My_Trex_has_fleas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Ross are married, stupidly in love and like to kill people. </p><p>This is a gift for Call Me Sil. For all the ways you understand me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. White Wolf Lodge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [call_me_Sil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_Sil/gifts).



> This is going to be dark. Jim and Ross are not good guys, they kill people and enjoy doing it. They also have very little in the way of remorse. They are nihilistic in their thinking and the only thing they have any regard for is each other. 
> 
> If you don't like extreme violence or gore please do not read this. There will be plenty of both.

Yosemite in late fall was not beautiful in the way many people might have thought it was. It was a little stark with the colours faded from their earlier vibrancy, and the skies were a muddy grey. Rain threatened and the roads were empty of visitors that had swarmed here only a few months earlier. 

Carol Watkins was leaning on the reception desk in the White Wolf Lodge main building reading a magazine that would have been charitably described as trashy. She was coming to the end of her shift and had no reservations due in. The park was relatively empty. There was one family in one of the hard sided cabins and two groups of college kids in two of the canvas tents. There was also one hard line group of good ol’ boys that were camping in the site down the road. But other than that it was as she expected it to be at this time of the year. The days were shorter now and the dusk was setting in even though it was only four in the afternoon. That was why when the door opened she jumped a little. She hadn’t even heard a car pull up outside. 

The men that walked in the door gave her pause though. It was unusual to see two men together that were such opposites of each other in looks. The taller of the two was dark with hair that was artfully tousled so a curl or two hung in deep hazel eyes. He was lithe and elegant and moved gracefully across the room towards her. His companion was shorter, more compact and friendly looking. When he got close enough for her to see, his eyes were bright blue and his hair was dark gold, the kind that promised to go sunshine in summer. They were both good looking and they moved into each other’s space easily when they got to the desk. Carol got two brilliant smiles, one deeply dimpled and the other showing off a wide mobile mouth and teeth that were slightly crooked at the front.. 

‘Hi.’ The dark one said, pulling off a pair of black gloves. There was a white metal ring on his left ring finger. It caught Carol’s eye because it was thick and chunky and made from brushed steel and had the word ‘Taken’ stamped into it. For some reason that made her smile. ‘We were wondering if you’ve got anything in the way of lodging for tonight.’ His voice was accented and it took her by surprise.

‘You’re British.’ she said and they looked at each other and laughed. 

‘Yes, we are.’ the blond one replied in similar accented English. ‘And clearly clueless. Otherwise we probably would have come at a more hospitable time of the year.’ He shivered for emphasis. ‘It’s bloody cold up here.’

‘It is.’ Carol said, warming to their friendly manner. ‘We are fairly far up.’ She smiled back at them. ‘You’re in luck though. Because it is this time of year we actually have plenty of lodging available. Would you like a hard sided cabin or a tent cabin or were you going to need the campsite.’ The two men looked at each other.

‘Whatever’s the warmest and has a double bed.’ the dark one said. 

‘I don’t know about that.’ The blond one replied. He had taken his hands out of the pockets of his thick red and black plaid coat and pulled off his own gloves. To her surprise, Carol saw a matching ring on the matching finger of his left hand. ‘I might want my own bed if it will stop you putting your cold feet on me.’ 

‘Rubbish.’ the dark man laughed, and his smile was distinctly flirtacious when he looked at his companion. ‘You love my feet.’

‘Not when they could be used to preserve food, I don’t.’ the blond man said. He looked at Carol. ‘I think the hard sided cabin would be best.’

‘It does have two double beds.’ Carol found herself saying as her brain caught up to what she was seeing. ‘That way you could each have one.’ 

‘Sounds perfect.’ the blond man laughed.

‘Not a bloody chance.’ the dark man retorted. ‘I am not sleeping in separate beds on our bloody honeymoon.’ The blond man gave him an affectionate look and took his wallet out of his back pocket. 

‘That sounds fine.’ he said to Carol. ‘We need two nights.’ 

‘The cabins have electricity and their own bathroom.’ she said. ‘And of course the beds. There is a daily maid service and all your linens are included.’

‘Sounds good.’ the blond man replied. Carol took his credit card, discreetly clocking the name. She rang up the charges and he signed the receipt for her. ‘All meals are in the main dining room and if you have a cooler we will need you to put it in the bear box.’ She handed him a map of the site. ‘The cabins are just down here, and you can park right outside.’

‘No problem.’ the blond man said. He took the key from her. ‘Thank you, Carol.’ 

‘You’re very welcome, Mr Hawkins.’ she replied. ‘I hope you and your husband have a pleasant stay.’

‘I’m sure we will.’ the dark haired man said with a wink as he turned and followed his partner out the door.

*********

Once they were outside Ross went around to the passenger side of the black truck they were driving and got in. He waited until Jim joined him before grabbing him by the front of the coat and kissing him forcefully. Jim smiled at him when Ross finally let him go.

‘What was that for?’ he asked and Ross nudged his nose with his own.

‘I do believe that was the first time someone other than you has referred to me as your husband.’ he said with a wide smile. ‘I just really like the way it sounds.’ Jim raised one gold eyebrow at him.

‘You’re a silly bastard.’ he said. 

‘Well, what does that make you then?’ Ross laughed. ‘You married this silly bastard.’

‘It makes me even more ridiculous than you are.’ Jim said. He started the car and drove along the tarred drive until they got to the four cabins. They were well spaced out so that each one was far enough not to be overlooked, or indeed overheard, by the others. ‘Come on, baby. Lets’ go make ourselves at home.’ He got out and Ross did the same, following Jim to the front door of the cabin. The room they entered was the sleeping area with two double wooden beds as promised dressed in simple white bed linen. They had dark green valances that matched the carpet. To the left was the door to the bathroom, a simple affair with a shower, toilet and basin. 

‘Well, this is cosy.’ Ross grinned, winding both arms around Jim from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder. ‘And there don’t seem to be many other cars.’ He pressed a kiss behind Jim’s right ear. ‘We might even be able to make all the noise we want.’

‘Perve.’ Jim replied. He leaned back into Ross’ arms. ‘I say we get unpacked and then go get dinner. I’m fucking starving after that drive.’

‘American distances.’ Ross laughed. He let Jim go and retreated outside to the car, grabbing a matching pair of black leather holdalls from the back seat and carting them inside, dumping them on the bed closest to the door. Jim had also gone outside and was carrying their cooler to the bear box situated a short distance from the cabin. He opened it, put the cooler inside and locked it. When he got back to the car, he reached under the driver’s seat and withdrew a roll of cloth then went around the other side and retrieved the backpack from the passenger foot well. He stowed it over one arm and then went back inside. 

Ross unzipped one of the bags and took out two wash bags, one utilitarian black fabric and the other one plastic and covered in Star Wars characters. He took them into the bathroom and placed them both on the window ledge above the basin. Then he went back into the bedroom. Jim had closed the door and put the backpack with the other luggage on the bed. He was sitting on the one closest to the bathroom now and he placed the roll of black canvas on the bed and carefully untied the straps that held it closed then spread it open. Ross leaned in the doorway and watched as Jim’s nimble fingers danced over the hilts of the knives that were stowed inside. Unlike himself, Jim had a collection that he liked to use while Ross was happy with whatever was to hand. There was nothing like a good kitchen knife to get the job done. 

He walked over, wrapping his fingers around the back of Jim’s neck and squeezing lightly. Jim looked up at him, blue eyes bright. 

‘You ready to go eat?’ Ross asked and he smiled, his dimples making him look positively angelic. Ross smiled back, reflecting that only he got to see the madness that lurked behind those beautiful eyes. The thought was enough to make him hard.

‘Sure.’ Jim replied, pulling him down into a kiss.


	2. Brief Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross and Jim meet.

_Before_

The first time they met was at a party and purely by coincidence. Jim would forever tease Ross that he hadn’t even been looking at him in the first place but at the man he was with. Ross would retort that if Jim had shown any interest he might have been the one going home with Ross that evening.

The man Jim had been with, the same man Ross effectively stole off of him and took home, disappeared two weeks after the party. The newspapers ran the story but he was never found and was widely considered to have skipped the country in order to outrun an upcoming court date for possession of Class A drugs.

Of course Ross knew better. He still had Christian's eyes in a jar. They’d been sent with a huge bouquet of red roses, so dark they were almost black, one of Jim’s quirky little touches. Ross liked to think of them as his first courting gift.

**********

Ross took a deep drag of his cigarette and glared at the assembled crowd on the tiny roof terrace of the apartment they were currently at. Cilla, his leggy, gorgeous and extremely promiscuous room-mate, stole it from his fingers and did the same. The place belonged to one of her casual fucks that she knew from acting classes and was populated by bright young things from media and liberal arts circles. Ross had found himself the target of several young women who thought his accent charming. They had all been very disappointed to discover he was gay. Weirdly the same thing they found attractive seemed to be putting the men off.

That or they could smell he was a predator.

He hadn’t actually wanted to come. He had lines for a small role for an Off-Broadway play he’d been given (Cilla had assured him the best way to get parts was the time honoured tradition of getting on one’s knees and Ross had found this method to be most suitable. It was certainly enough to keep the parts trickling in and paying his rent. It had even bought him a couple of free dinners, something he was definitely not averse to) and it seemed like a wasted opportunity when he could be at home rehearsing. Acting was the one thing - besides his unusual hobby – that Ross actually took seriously.

They were crushed in a corner when Ross saw him. He towered over his companion, at least six foot two and built like a Greek god. He made all Ross’ bells start ringing immediately. Cilla noticed his attention being drawn and snorted inelegantly.

‘I’ll leave you to it.’ she said with a grin and then sashayed off, her barely there mini not quite revealing the fact that she wasn’t wearing any underwear for easy access. Ross secretly envied her free and easy sexuality. He was nowhere near being a prude as the audition room blowjobs would testify, but ordinary fucking didn’t really do much for him. It was enough to ease the itch but not get rid of it. For that he needed something else, something that was proving pretty difficult to find in New York, going against all the expectations he’d had when he’d climbed on an airplane a year before and headed across the pond. Sometimes he wondered if it had been worth it at all. His count was pitiful, only three to his name and it rankled that real life had actually been very unconducive to murder.

Sex without the death was boring but safe, and Ross hadn’t been exactly idle, but it had been at least a month since his last encounter had left him sweaty and unfulfilled, doing nothing at all to satisfy the dark lust inside him that turned his dreams crimson and sticky. Conquests were easy for him, his good looks and bright smile normally more than enough to convince a man to go home with him. It was the lack of follow through that left him so frustrated he could cry.

Ross contemplated the man across the terrace and let his eyes run over him in a leisurely way. He had thick brown hair, a little lighter than his own and light coloured eyes, which Ross was a sucker for. His one major regret about leaving home had been the collection of little jars in the long dilapidated shed lost in the lower terraces of Nampara’s garden. He’d kept his favourite things in there.

The man was putting out signals like there was no tomorrow but Ross could see that as polite as his short companion was being, there was little or no interest there. He gave the man a brief once over but saw nothing to attract him. He didn’t go for blonds or men who were shorter than himself and the man’s companion was immaculately dressed in neat jeans that were a perfect unfashionable shade of blue, a white t-shirt and a blue and green plaid shirt over it. He had a heavy steel watch and a collection of ethnic bracelets on the same wrist. Everything about him screamed safe and boring and predictable and Ross smiled. He was the kind of guy who would let you come in his mouth and then politely excuse himself to go spit.

Well, if he wasn’t going to jump at was on offer, Ross knew someone who would. It would amuse him and he’d probably get at least a fuck out of it. Of course, what he really wanted was to spilt that magnificent torso down the centre, open up the broad chest and have a good rummage around inside, cup the dying heart and feel it go still in his hands, coat himself in blood until it covered his arms and face and hands.

Ross felt his breathing grow short at the thought of it. But sadly, he wasn’t here to find a playmate. He was here to keep Cilla from overdosing on industrial amounts of coke and get himself laid if he could. He pushed off the wall he was leaning against and approached the couple, his best and brightest smile in place. They turned slightly as he approached. He bypassed the blond entirely, turning all his attention on the brown haired man.

‘Hi.’ he said. ‘I’m Ross.’

**********

Jim was amused by the turn of events. Christian was a nice boy but he was boring as fuck and Jim was more than ready to cut him loose. He’d considered disposing of him, but they’d been sort of dating for a couple of weeks and he couldn’t take the chance. It was too close to home. Now he was watching as the gloriously lithe creature that had just walked into their shared space was pulling a number on his soon to be ex-whatever with absolutely no shame at all.

He looked the man up and down, taking his time and being as intense in his scrutiny as he liked. He didn’t normally go for what he saw in front of him. He liked his muscle queens far too much and the boy (he really couldn’t be more than twenty-three) looked like he was in need of a Happy Meal. His thick hair was so dark it was almost black and he had eyes to match. All in all he wasn’t bad looking, but there was something else that drew Jim’s attention, something he couldn’t define. He breathed in a little deeper, catching the scent of aftershave that smelled surprisingly expensive and sweat with a strange earthy smell underneath. It had the strangest effect on him, waking up something primal that made him want to bristle and posture for the man who was doing everything he could to steal his date.

Jim was used to sorting the world into predators like himself and prey. Most people moved through his line of vision without being given the slightest amount of consideration. This was something different. But as usual, he kept his face perfectly neutral. An affable mask that made people call him friendly and open and trustworthy. It was a look that had persuaded people into his car on a number of occasions.

They never made that mistake twice.

Christian, big muscle bound idiot that he was, wasn’t picking up on anything at all than the fact that his dick was obviously telling him to throw caution to the wind and go home with the dark haired man.

Ross.

That’s what he said his name was.

Jim filed that away for future reference. Then he smiled and raised his beer in salute.

‘He’s all yours, mate.’ he said and walked away. He deposited his half-drunk beer on the table by the front door, grabbed his leather jacket from the hook and left as he shrugged into it. It took him twenty minutes to get to the brownstone building his own apartment was in.

When Jim got home, he fed Zeus and Apollo a snack and boxed up the few things Christian had left behind. Then he went downstairs with the dachsunds trotting next to him on their leads and went for a walk in Union Square Park then back home again. Then he got into a comfortable pair of sweats and put on a film, The Last Starfighter, and snuggled on the sofa with his dogs until he fell asleep.

To his surprise, Jim dreamed of deep hazel eyes.

He woke up a few hours later drooling into one of the cushions and with the epiphany of what he'd encountered crashing through his head.


	3. Impoliteness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at the White Wolf Lodge

Dinner was well-cooked and tasty and Ross was now sitting back in his chair, glass of wine in front of him as he looked at Jim. Jim for his part was nose deep in his book, a biography of Catherine the Great. Most people would have been appalled at his seeming rudeness, reading at the table while Ross was still sitting there, but he knew how Jim’s rhythms worked now, and he could feel that Jim was tense. He had been for a couple of days already, the need to kill surfacing as surely as his own did. Their cycles were now matched, although it was always Jim who manifested first, his dominance of their relationship ensuring he was the leader in all things.

Dinner had been good, baked chicken and mashed potatoes and vegetables. Ross had eaten all of it happily, including the vegetables Jim scraped onto his plate. Dessert had been apple pie and cream and Ross had almost laughed out loud at how cliché it was. He loved all of it, the tacky gingham table clothes and the silk flowers in the vase on each table. 

The college kids and the family were in there as well, and Ross and Jim had exchanged pleasantries with both groups when they came in. There had been a look of curiosity from the family, until the teenage daughter had pretty much kicked her parents under the table. The college kids hadn’t even batted an eyelid at them, their West coast accents marking them as coming from a place where two men together elicited nothing but boredom. Then the younger of the two kids with the family had clocked their matching rings. 

‘Are you married?’ she’d asked with the frank curiosity that seemed to be the preserve of ten year olds everywhere. Ross had looked across at Jim who’d given him his trademark raised eyebrow and half smile which made a dimple flicker at the corner of his mouth. Ross had looked back at the girl and nodded.

‘Yes, we are.’ he’d replied with a friendly smile. ‘But only for a week.’ Her guileless brown eyes had widened and she’d looked at her mother who was now also smiling.

‘Newlyweds?’ her mother asked. Apparently it was a topic she approved of. ‘Where did you get married?’

‘New York. We’re here on honeymoon.’ Ross said proudly, giving his husband of one week a sidelong look. Jim returned with an indulgent smile. ‘Two weeks of national parks and coastline. Jim’s taking me to see the Redwoods.’ 

‘Oh, that’s lovely.’ The woman said and just like that a conversation started. They turned out to be Francis and Jake Greenwood of Washington State and they had a similar agenda while Maddie and Kirsten, the older and younger daughter respectively, were on late school vacation. 

They had just excused themselves and were about ready to get up when Jim put his book down and invited them to stay for another round of coffee on them. Ross was somewhat surprised and so were the Greenwoods. He got the distinct feeling that they thought Jim a little odd. If only they knew. 

‘All right then.’ Jake said. He was a barrel chested man with an effusive smile who had turned out to be in IT. They sent Maddie and Kirsten back to their cabin and sat down and the conversation continued, this time with Jim involved. Francis had found her comfort zone and was pestering Ross for details of the wedding. Ross found himself enjoying their conversation enormously and was happily going into detail when the door to the dining room opened and two park rangers came in. They took the table over and gave them a reserved greeting. The looks they sent the way of him and Jim and the Greenwoods were less than welcoming though. Ross wasn’t sure if it was because they’d noticed that he and Jim were a couple but he ignored it and carried on talking. They ordered dinner from Carol and ate it in hostile silence, still staring at the four people at the table next to them.

It wasn’t until ten minutes after the rangers had finished and were in whispered conversation that Ross heard it. It was a word that he disliked intensely and he knew just by looking at the stricken expressions on Francis and Jake that they had heard it too. It had been muttered loudly enough for the perpetrator to deny it if he chose but loud enough so that it hit its intended target. He and Jim locked eyes and Ross saw the tell-tale flash in the blue eyes. Jim was angry about what he’d just heard. He sighed softly and turned to the rangers.

‘Would you like to repeat that at a volume that would make it clear what you were saying?’ he asked and the rangers froze. Ross realised that they had probably done this before and never actually been challenged on it.

‘We didn’t say anything.’ The one closest to them said and the other gave them a challenging glare. ‘Not a word.’

‘That’s extremely odd.’ Jim replied, his measured voice belying the rage that Ross could read in the minute signals of his face and body. ‘Because I could have sworn that you just referred to the couple sharing our table by a racial epithet not very fitting for someone who professes to be inhabiting the twenty-first century.’ He gave them a pleasant smile which managed to be just threatening enough. ‘I suggest you apologise to this lovely couple. It would be a shame for them to have to leave here feeling like they’d done something wrong when it was simply the inability of yourselves to act in a civilised manner.’

His eloquent riposte seemed to have the opposite effect on the rangers. First they both gaped at Jim and then their faces hardened. 

‘Fuck you, queer.’ The first one, the one who’d used the offensive term in the first place, snapped. ‘I don’t apologise for what I say, least of all to faggots like you.’ Ross knew then he’d been correct when he’d surmised that they had realised him and Jim were a couple. Him waxing lyrical to Francis about their wedding probably hadn’t helped. ‘Fuck off and take the darkies with you.’ 

‘Now, you see.’ Jim said. ‘That’s just plain fucking rude.’ His blue eyes narrowed and Ross could see it. It was there in the tightness at the corners of his eyes and mouth, tension that was suddenly running though his body. It was not good. He was about to say something when Jake leaned over and put one meaty hand on Jim’s arm.

‘They’re not worth it.’ he said, his gentle voice cutting through the ice in the air. ‘Please, we don’t want any trouble.’ Jim seemed taken aback by Jake’s response, but then he relaxed and smiled at him.

‘Your call.’ he said and got up. The rangers watched him, barely concealed sneers on their faces. Ross followed, as did Francis and Jake. He noticed Carol watching them out of the corner of his eye, her mouth turned down in an unhappy line. As a group they left the dining room. He and Jim excorted Jake and Francis to their cabin.

‘You should have let me say something.’ Jim said to Jake who sighed and shrugged.

‘What are you going to do?’ he asked. ‘There’s bigoted pricks all over the goddamn place.’ 

‘At least the girls weren’t there to hear it.’ Francis said, her voice sad. ‘Well, it was a lovely evening while it lasted. I think we’ll be moving on tomorrow. I suddenly don’t feel very comfortable here anymore.’ She opened the door and stood turned in the doorway. ‘I hope you boys have a lovely honeymoon, regardless of that crap.’

‘We will.’ Ross replied. He and Jim watched as she went in. Jake shook his head. 

‘The worst thing is that people like that never get what’s coming to them.’ he said. ‘Anyway, it was a pleasure to meet you both. Have a safe trip.’

‘You too.’ Jim said. Jake gave them a small smile and went inside as well, closing the door behind him. 

‘Come on.’ Ross said, taking Jim’s hand. ‘Let’s go to bed.’

********

Back in the cabin he ran a bath and then more or less shoved Jim into it, stopping only to get him out of his clothes first. They had beer in the cooler outside and Ross ran to grab four, noting how the cold air worked better than ice packs to keep them frosty. When he got back in, Jim was chin deep in the tub. Ross sat on the closed toilet and braced his feet against the edge, cracking the top of one beer and handing it to him, then opening the next one for himself. 

‘You know.’ he said conversationally. ‘There’re three campsites north of here that are closed until summer.’

‘You know you’re about as obvious as it’s possible to be?’ Jim asked, taking a pull of his beer. His voice was stern but his eyes were starting to sparkle. ‘Not tonight. Not until they leave.’

‘All right.’ Ross replied, resting one ankle on the edge of the tub and prodding Jim’s wet shoulder with his toes. He was starting to feel it now, a pleasant tingle of anticipation, a deep seated pull in his belly that he only got when they were going on a hunt. He took a swallow of beer, enjoying the cold bitterness. Jim watched him, his smile lazy and catlike now. Ross resisted the urge to preen under the approving look. ‘What?’

‘You.’ Jim replied. ‘I love it when you look like that. Your eagerness is breath taking.’ 

‘Shut up.’ Ross retorted, shoving Jim with his foot and blushing.


	4. WTF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is highly confused.

_Before_

Jim liked to think of himself as a prudent individual. He knew how to cover his own tracks well enough to have not been caught or even suspected in the previous six years and so going on the attack as it were and being the one who was following was a strange novelty. He normally didn’t give a fuck if his bed-mate at the time was faithful or not, and it wasn’t the case here either. But there was something going on and before he knew it he found himself outside a run-down looking apartment block on the Upper East Side a few blocks from Columbia University. He had never used the tracker app he had on his phone, referring to actually stick to the old adage that an unrelated victim was the best kind. But now it had come in very handy to tell him where Christian was at eight o‘clock in the morning.

So why on earth he’d woken up that morning, gone for a jog with the dogs, showered, dressed and eaten breakfast and was now lurking across the road waiting for any sign of his so-called boyfriend and the dark haired man he’d gone home with and trying to restrain two wriggling torpedo shaped bodies that wanted to sniff everywhere was anyone’s guess.

Jim eventually decided that leaning against a wall was not the best way to spend his time and went into the tiny coffee shop a few paces down from where he was standing. The waitress went into a frenzy over Zeus and Apollo who wagged their whip thin tails frantically and happily accepted the helping of breakfast sausage she brought them along with Jim’s breakfast and salted caramel latte.

He ate slowly as he normally did, enjoying the sun. Spring was so much nicer than summer in New York. He was, however, getting a little irritated at the fact that he had things to do, his weekends always being taken up with seeing people and going places and sometimes more diverting past-times. Jim wasn’t unconvinced that this was another reason for his success. Who would suspect someone as seemingly outgoing and sociable as he was, someone who was well-mannered and educated and enjoyed a lifestyle that could be described as affluent? Who would suspect a man who owned a pair of black-and-tan dachshunds who were currently conning the waitress into giving them more sausage?

His attention was caught by movement at the front door of the apartment building. He watched as Christian made his exit, still dressed in his clothes from the previous night. Behind him was the man who’d called himself Ross, shirtless and bare foot in a pair of black skinny jeans so tight that they left precious little to the imagination. He had a cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth and Jim immediately found himself thinking that that would be the first thing that would have to go if he was going to keep the guy around. That and the fact that the guy looked like he’d had seven shades of hell fucked out of him and had clearly not cleaned himself up.

That shocked the hell out of him.

Jim was always the passive party when it came to hooking up. He didn’t do relationships, neither his habits nor his personality being particularly made for commitment. He had plenty of friends from work and the extended circles that came from this. His job normally brought him into plenty of contact with willing parties and he never ever chased, although he was always willing to be pursued. So the fact that he was contemplating a man that was the antithesis of what he looked for in terms of both physical appearance and habit and contemplating the changes he would have to make to find him bearable was a new thing to Jim.

It didn’t sit well.

**********

Ross waved Christian off from the apartment door and then retreated inside. He vaulted up the stairs, two at a time and back into the apartment he shared with Cilla and Andreas, another model-actor-whatever that managed to give enough blowjobs to also pay a third of the rent, although Ross suspected that Andreas was not as unfamiliar with selling his impressive wares as he wanted others to think. There was a distinct air of rent boy about him.

He went into the tiny kitchen, emptying the dregs out of the coffee pot and replenishing the water and coffee and set it to brew. He was an addict, unable to even function until he’d had several cups. Along with the coffee wet a few more cigarettes and Ross was ready to start the day.

There was the sound of a door opening and Cilla came in, wearing a transluscent pink nightdress that showed off her nipples. She stole Ross’ cigarette from him.

‘Good night?’ she asked and he shrugged.

‘No more than you.’ he said with a grin. ‘I could hear you shouting directions to your clit through the fucking door.’

‘Three of them and you’d think at least one would have hit it.’ she snorted, blowing the smoke out of her nostrils. ‘Was yours any better?’

‘Not really.’ Ross replied, taking the cigarette back from her. ‘He had a nice cock, he just didn’t know what to do with it besides stick it up my arse.’

‘That’s what happens when you go for looks.’ Cilla explained. She poured herself a mug of coffee and sipped it. ‘Ugly guys always fuck better because they’re trying to show off.’ She perched on the edge of the kitchen table, swinging her long legs like a child. She was wearing nothing under her nightdress and it rode up to reveal a mat of surprisingly luxuriant pubic hair. In a city that worshipped the waxing parlour, Cilla was an exotic aberration. ‘What are you doing today?’  
‘Nothing.’ Ross replied. He was rapidly getting cranky, just as he always did after fucking. ‘I’m going back to bed to spend the rest of the day waking and watching telly.’

‘No, you’re not.’ Cilla said, her voice decisive. ‘We’re going shopping this afternoon, so put your heels on.’

‘With what fucking money?’ Ross asked, raising an eyebrow at her. Cilla grinned and reached down into the thick hair and pulled out a roll of banknotes wrapped in clingfilm with all the flourish of a magician pulling a rabbit of a hat. He watched in amazement as she peeled the clingfilm off and spread the money on the table. There had to be at least two thousand dollars there. ‘Jesus fucking Christ, Cilla. You seriously hid a roll of c-notes in your …?’ He trailed off and Cilla threw back her head and laughed uproariously.

‘It was the best place to stash it.’ she said. ‘Mr Two was seriously loaded. I kind of hit the jackpot. He went ballistic when he discovered it was missing but I managed to convince him one of his mates, as you call them, took it.’ Ross laughed at her. Cilla never did sex with anything less than two other people in play.

You had to admire her enthusiasm.

*********

Jim left after he’d finished his breakfast and let the waitress have a final cuddle with the lads, then headed back to the West Side via central park, his mind in more turmoil than it had been for a very long time.

He needed to think.

When he got back to his apartment he found Jana in his kitchen, unpacking a box of cleaning products. She gave him a look and kept on straightening things up. Jim went to her then bent to unclip the lads so they could through themselves at her, the long bodies stretched along her legs. He liked Jana as much as he was capable of liking anyone, and their relationship over the past five years when he’d first hired her as his housekeeper cum dog-walker cum everything else he needed her to be was probably the closest one he’d ever had in his life.

‘You’re up early.’ she said, her flat accented voice giving nothing away. Jim was almost convinced that she was incapable of actual emotions which suited him just fine. He needed reliability and trustworthiness, not sentiment. He had his daytime face for that.

‘I had something to do.’ He said, going to the fridge and taking out a glass bottle of orange juice, then retrieving two glasses from the cupboard and pouring one for each of them. ‘The boys will probably sleep most of the day.’

‘They are lazy shits.’ Jana said. ‘You let them get away with murder.’ Jim snorted with laughter at her choice of words. ‘I brought your dry-cleaning. It is in you cupboard.’

‘Wardrobe.’ Jim corrected and she glared at him. ‘I also left a list of things I want you to do today.’

‘I found it.’ she said waving the slip of paper at him. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Errands.’ Jim said and went out of the kitchen and up the staircase to his room. It was at the back of the house with a set of folding doors that led onto the terrace. It was one of the reasons he’d bought the apartment in the first place when he’d arrived in New York from the Bahamas, twenty and already ridiculously wealthy thanks to a bizarre car accident ten years earlier and a guardian who had turned out to be into all sorts of illegal activity. Jim had learned a lot from him with regards to evading the authorities when he’d gone to live with him in the Caribbean. Of course John Silver was a drug smuggler and dealer, not anything remotely like Jim had become, and while he was aware that Jim had a homicidal streak he still had no clue as to the extent of his foster-son’s predilections.

Jim had been an early starter, happy to work as Silver’s enforcer and his right hand man until he got itchy feet and decided to set out on his own. The drugs trade wasn’t pleasant or civilised and Jim had had enough practice on rival gang members to know what got him off and what didn’t. His first time, a runner who was playing their organisation off another one that he’d caught and killed on Silver’s order when he was only seventeen, had led Jim to realise just what he was. The problem wasn’t that he killed people. In Silver’s line of work that came with the territory and his foster father had made a fair number of people disappear. No, the problem was how much Jim enjoyed it and the things he wanted to do, the ways he wanted to play. That was what he needed to hide from Silver and the others he worked with. Not only that, but Jim was ambitious. Silver had been able to afford to send him to an excellent boarding school in England until he graduated and then Jim had returned home to him and the elegant yacht which carried massive amounts of cocaine from Venezuela to Miami. But it wasn’t enough anymore. Jim wanted to be somewhere he could have what he wanted in terms of education and freedom to kill as he pleased.

New York had been a logical choice. It was big enough and had plenty of transient residents. The police were overworked and underfunded, and Jim found that there were more than enough places to hide the bodies he left behind so that no-one could find them. And in the meantime he could pursue a career in art restoration, something he loved passionately. That and his natural talent had led him to a career with the Met, and he was still employed there. He’d made friends with the people he worked with, painting himself as an orphan boy done good. It had been surprisingly easy, and all he’d done since then was keep his head down and not take any chances. He’d chosen his victims randomly and he’d become proficient at hiding the corpses so that they had never been found. He’d made a mistake early on, and one of his caches had been discovered. That had sent the cops into a flat spin and Jim had lived an uneasy life for six months. That had taught him to be extra careful. He had, however, gotten a documentary out of it which amused him no end.

So now the very thought of putting it all at risk for someone he didn’t even find attractive was not a happy one. Jim couldn’t understand it at all. Still that didn’t stop him from going out again an hour later. Unsurprisingly, he ended up back at the apartment building. He toyed with the idea of going into the café again for the sheer hell of not being recognised, but then decided against it. No need to tempt fate.

He was a little further own from where he’d been earlier that day, standing just inside the shadows of an alley that led between two shops. His entire physicality was different. Jim had long ago learned how to act the part he needed to play and was now dressed like any student from the university up the road, with a Giants cap covering his blond hair and a backpack over one shoulder. He used his short stature and youthful face to good effect, moving among the crowds from Columbia as if he was one of them and no-one ever questioned him.

Now he watched and waited, settling into himself and letting his mind wander. He was used to this, the long wait. He used it when he was hunting, waiting for just that special person. He’d had a couple not too long ago, a change from his normal routine. He didn’t usually kill women, but these two had been hard to resist. Their braying obnoxiousness and accents that marked them out as tourists in New York had been a bright lure to his sensibilities. He’d followed them from downtown to midtown, noting their dismissal of the people they encountered, their complete lack of awareness with regards to their own offensiveness. By the time he’d decided he wanted to kill them, he was thinking of it as less of a hunt and more of a public service.

It had been fun. They’d screamed. A lot.

And when he was finished he’d carefully carved several lines from Debrett’s into their fat shoulders and left them sitting back to back. He thought that was suitable.

A loud laugh, too bright and too sharp to his ear, caught Jim’s attention and brought him out of his reverie. He focused and saw him. Ross was coming out of the door, holding it open for a stunningly beautiful woman, dark haired and long limbed with amber coloured skin. For a moment he was confused, but then she grabbed Ross’ arm with easy familiarity and Jim smiled to himself. New York was swimming in fag hags and she was easy enough to identify as one. He turned his attention to the man he’d come to track and gave him a thorough once over. The black skinny jeans were still in place, but now they were topped with a lurid pink t-shirt and finished off tucked into black workboots. He was scruffy and unkempt and bloody smoking again and Jim was overcome with an urge to go over, pin him down and brush Ross’ fucking hair. He looked like every other punkesque anorexic gay boy in New York.

He wasn’t anything Jim wanted.

He was everything Jim wanted.

What the fuck was happening?


	5. Careful Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A full and busy day.

Jim woke to the feel of Ross’ mouth on him, infinitely gentle. He stretched as well as he could and felt Ross shift so he could be more comfortable. He pulled off, licking softly at the head of Jim’s cock and Jim arched up off the bed, the muscles in his back pulling pleasantly. He opened his eyes and looked down at the dark head, hair tousled, reached for it. He tangled his fingers in Ross’ hair and watched the steady lap of Ross’ tongue. 

‘What did I do to deserve this?’ he murmured and Ross looked up at him, his hazel eyes black in the dim light of their room. 

‘I got bored waiting for you so I thought I’d speed things along.’ he said, resting his chin on Jim’s hipbone. ‘You take forever to wake up.’ He ran his thumb over the head and Jim bit his lip involuntarily. Ross smiled, lazy and smug, and went back to what he was doing. Jim closed his eyes and moaned as Ross started sucking on him, the pull enough to stir heat in his stomach. He reached out blindly for the lube on the bedside table. 

They had fucked after he got out the bath, him on his elbows and knees with Ross behind him, and they had been almost animalistic in their frenzy. It happened every time they planned a hunt. Jim felt it under his hand and grasped the pump bottle then chucked it in Ross’ direction. There was a muffled noise as the bottle connected with Ross’ head. 

‘Oi.’ he said and Jim opened his eyes again to see Ross giving him an affronted look. Jim smiled and nodded towards the lube which was now lying next to his head. 

‘You know what to do with that.’ he said, stretching again in an exaggerated manner. ‘Get to it.’ The dark eyes narrowed, and Jim felt a twist in his gut. The anticipation of what he knew would surely come next made his cock harden even more in Ross’ grasp. His husband was so easy to goad and he never disappointed. 

Ross sat up on his haunches and then moved forward to straddle Jim’s thighs. He reached for the lube and regarded it for a moment. Then he put it back down on the bed. His smile grew crooked and Jim could almost read what was going on in his mind. In a show of submission, Jim reached up and grasped the wooden dowels of the headboard. 

That was all it took. 

Ross was up off the bed in a flash and when he came back he had Jim’s black webbing belt in one hand and his Delica in the other. It was his own favourite, the one with the black titanium blade that he used for all his really delicate work and just seeing it in Ross’ hand made a surge of heat race through Jim’s chest, making his breath shorten considerably. He waited patiently as Ross climbed back on the bed and laid the knife down by his side. 

Ross leaned down and his lips drifted softly over the delicate skin of Jim’s inner arm, tongue flicking out every now and then, until Ross could press his nose to Jim’s armpit, breathing in deeply. He licked at the silky blond hair and Jim hummed appreciatively. Ross worshipped him like this, lying pliant and half awake. It was all part of their dance, of them allowing the other to see their vulnerability and knowing that they could hurt each other in the worst ways known to man but choosing not to. 

‘You taste good.’ Ross murmured into his skin and Jim looked towards him, their eyes meeting. He watched as Ross dragged his tongue slowly along the contour of his tricep, and then moved in toward them. Jim opened his mouth in anticipation and Ross licked into it – once, twice – and then kissed him deeply. Their tongues tangled and dragged, a rhythm that they both knew perfectly. When they stopped, they were both breathing deeply, everything about them falling into synch.

‘I love you.’ Ross breathed and Jim felt the glow those words always elicited, no matter what the context. 

‘I love you.’ he replied and Ross smiled and then reached for his hands. He tied them with an efficiency born of frequent practice, looping the belt around them and pulling it tight enough to constrain but not cut off the flow of blood. Jim settled down into the pillows, making himself comfortable. The first time he’d allowed Ross to do this, his heart had been beating so fast that he was sure they had both been able to hear it. He’d come at the first press of the knife into his skin. Now, Jim was able to control himself a lot better. He steadied his breathing as Ross moved back to sit on his stomach and reached for the knife. The tiny snick as he flicked it open made Jim let out a quiet gasp. Ross gave him a knowing smile, then licked along the back of the blade. That was enough to make Jim arch up and moan again and Ross laughed, low and soft. 

‘You’re such a fucking whore for this.’ he said and Jim knew that he was in for a long morning.

‘Shut up and do it.’ he replied. ‘You woke me up. The least you can do is follow through.’

‘Oh I plan on following through.’ Ross said and he lowered the blade until the tip of it was resting against Jim’s left nipple. The cold surgical steel made it harden instantly. Ross lifted the knife and traced the aureola with it, the touch so light the skin wasn’t damaged. His touch was delicate, but Jim could still feel it and he bit the inside of his cheek to stop from shivering in pleasure. ‘The question is how long will you be able to stop yourself from screaming?’ His smile changed, becoming predatory, and it made him breathtakingly beautiful. Jim loved him best in the aftermath of a hunt, his pale skin coated in slick red fluid and his dark hair sticky. He loved to watch Ross play, plunging his hands deep to feel, to handle, to destroy. He was so different, so magnificently uninhibited when he killed. And when he was done he’d come to Jim and offer himself up, letting Jim fuck him brutally in the blood and gore, making him come again and again until white streaked over red, then lick the blood and semen from Jim’s fingers.

‘As long as I need to.’ Jim said then cried out just a little as Ross pressed the blade home, the tip piercing the skin just above his nipple. Blood welled and beaded, tiny ruby bubbles that Ross licked off with a languid tongue. Jim watched, spellbound. The pain came a second later as his body caught up to the sharpness of the knife, sparking and flaring out under his skin. Ross pressed the cut with the flat of the blade, lifting it to lick the redness off. 

‘I am going to hurt you.’ he said and the assurance in his voice was like the best aphrodisiac to Jim. ‘I’m going to cut you until you come.’ The knife blade drifted over Jim’s skin to the other nipple and rested flat against it. ‘You’re going to beg me to stop.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Jim replied. ‘I don’t break that easily.’ He forced himself to sound arrogant, knowing how much it turned Ross on when he resisted, even while every fibre of his being was screaming yes. 

‘You do for me.’ Ross said and cut down this time, the knife making a slow trail as he cut along the line of Jim’s ribs. It was shallow, barely a scratch, but it was enough for the first flickers of orgasm to start in Jim’s groin. ‘I know how to break you wide open, get inside you, get you to give it up for me.’ He licked along the cut. ‘I’m going to fuck you open and make you cry.’ The next cut was just south of Jim’s navel, a semi-circular nick as Ross twisted the blade. This was deeper and Jim breathed out hard as the pain came, bright as magnesium in water. 

‘I don’t cry.’ he gritted out and gasped as Ross ran the blade along the line of his groin in the junction between leg and body. It came to rest on his thigh over the femoral artery, a favourite place of his which guaranteed a quick death. One move from Ross and he could sink the blade in just enough to nick it and leave Jim to bleed out slowly, the blood brilliantly red as it stained the white sheets. Jim bit down hard on his lip, tasting copper and quelling the orgasmic wave that came for him. He knew how to hold himself at the edge and did so. Ross had moved down and was kissing along the inside of his thigh, open mouthed and with just enough teeth to leave light marks. When he got to where the knife rested, he bit down hard, sucking and laving with his tongue. Jim strained against the belt around his wrists, his cock impossibly hard now, and panted out loud. Ross got his cock and licked along it, then nosed below until he could pressed his tongue against Jim’s perineum. He paid attention to it, licking slowly and Jim closed his eyes, knowing what was coming next. The knife had gone and he heard the sound of the lube bottle being pumped, then Ross sat up.

‘Look at me.’ he ordered and Jim opened his eyes to see the fingers of Ross’ right hand shiny with lube, so much it was dripping off into his skin. Jim couldn’t tear his eyes away, watching as Ross used it to lube up the handle of the Delica then leaned forward and lowered it. The first touch of the lubed nylon handle was as cold as the blade had been and Ross had to go slowly to stop himself from being cut on the still open blade. Jim lifted his knees up, splaying his legs open to accept it and Ros pressed in, the rear tip of the handle pushing against his entrance. Jim took a deep breath and relaxed and it went in, agonisingly slowly. Ross smiled and kept pushing and then it went all the way in in one smooth slide. 

‘Oh God…’ Jim blurted, completely involuntarily. The feel of the handle inside him was gloriously alien and Ross had it angled so the curved end had come to rest against his prostate. 

‘Fuck this looks so beautiful.’ Ross said, his eyes fixed on where the blade protruded from Jim’s body. ‘Stay there. Don’t fucking move.’ He got up and Jim smiled. Ross was such a visual creature. He could get off just on watching. He waited until Ross came back, phone in hand and closed his eyes against the flash as Ross took picture after picture. He knew he’d never look at them, feeling strangely discomforted by the sight of himself splayed open with his favourite knife up his arse. He hated the vulnerability of himself like that. But Ross loved his pictures, loved to come sit on the sofa and make Jim hold the phone up for him to see while he sat and jerked off for him before letting Jim fuck his mouth so hard he choked. 

Jim lay there, smelling the deep earthiness of Ross’ arousal, looking to wear his cock was leaking visibly. He wanted to taste, to smell but this was Ross’ game this morning. Finally Ross put the phone down and took hold of the knife again, rocking the handle up into Jim’s prostate and making Jim cry out again and again. This time there was no holding back, and the orgasm ripped through him like a thunderbolt. Jim came violently, pulling so hard against the belt that the tendons stood out on his arms. Ross was a master at this, making him come from the inside because he would still be hard when he came back down. 

Ross waited until he was breathing more or less normally and then started again, working the handle so softly that Jim glided from afterglow to orgasm once more without any refractory period between. The second orgasm was more powerful than the first and Jim was shouting by the end of it, legs shaking and his muscles clenching hard around the handle, the rough texture adding to the sensations. Ross placed one soothing hand on his belly when he stopped spasming and eased the knife out gently. Jim was barely able to respond when he felt Ross’ cock nudging at his stretched body, only tilt his hips to facilitate the slide inside him. 

‘Christ you feel so fucking good.’ Ross breathed into his ear as he stretched out over him. ‘All hot and wet inside for me. I love fucking you like this.’ He raised himself, elbows bracketing Jim’s head and kissed him, hips undulating slowly. Jim opened his mouth and let Ross’ tongue in, hiking his legs high up on Ross’ hips. 

‘Come on.’ he breathed into Ross’ mouth. ‘I’m still not broken yet.’ Ross growled and bit his lip, right where Jim had bitten it himself. It hurt so prettily and Jim moaned, letting all his control dissolve. ‘Fuck me, Ross.’ he said. ‘Fuck me…fuck me…’

Each instruction bought a harder thrust of Ross’ hips, a drive inside that hit Jim in just the right place. His cock was between them, the friction of their bellies making him arch and buck up against Ross. He was close now, the heat spreading through him and Jim threw his head back as Ross bit his neck and came for the final time, semen slicking where Ross’ body rubbed against him. Ross kept going, fucking him relentlessly through his aftershocks until his whole body tightened and shuddered as he came inside Jim, as deep inside as he could get. Then Ross reached up and undid Jim's hands, dropping the belt to the floor.

They came down slowly, Jim splaying his hands across Ross’ back, tracing the differing textures of skin under his fingertips. Ross’ back piece was large and elaborate, a beautiful twisted landscape of Dante’s Inferno that he’d had done the previous year as a surprise for Jim. He loved it, tracing the lines of the tortured souls as he fucked Ross on his knees, loved wiping the blood away to see the design. 

Now Ross’ back was also wet, but with sweat and not blood. It felt no less enthralling. 

‘Come on you.’ Jim said into Ross’ neck. ‘Get off me. There are adventures to be had.’ Ross lifted up and looked into Jim’s eyes, his perfect sunshine smile plastered all over his beautiful face. 

They kissed, and it was every bit as wonderful as their first one had been. 

************

Ross pulled his boots on one at a time and laced them securely. He had never been into sensible footwear until he met Jim, who had shown him the practicalities of their lifestyle and how a good hardwearing pair of boots were a godsend. He finished tying them and sat up. Jim was already dressed and shrugging into his coat. He gave Ross a lightning quick smile, all sunniness and light after what they had done that morning. He loved that about Jim and found his duality endlessly fascinating. His wonderful, sweet, affectionate husband one minute, and an emotionless, ruthless predator the next. Ross was dazzled and smitten in equal measures.

His stomach growled and Ross smiled sheepishly when Jim looked at him. It was a running joke that Ross was always hungry and Jim raised an eyebrow at him. 

‘Not my fault.’ Ross said, trying to defend himself and failing miserably when his stomach made a noise that could have come from a grizzly bear. He got up. ‘This is because I was attending to you this morning.’ Jim laughed and picked up Ross’ coat and held it out for him to move into, smoothing his hands along Ross’s shoulders as he always did, finishing off by trailing his fingers along the back of Ross’ neck.

‘And you did it so very well.’ he said with a smile. He gave Ross a quick kiss. ‘Just like you always do.’ 

‘Careful.’ Ross replied. ‘You’ll make me unbearably overconfident if you say that.’

‘Too late.’ Jim said and took his hand.

They walked across the hard packed earth to the main building. Carol was already in the dining room behind the buffet, putting out a plate of muffins, and she looked up as they entered. 

‘Good morning.’ Jim said, letting go of Ross’ hand and going to her. She looked horribly uneasy and he correctly deduced that she was still unhappy about the previous night. Ross wandered over to a table nearby and sat down watching him. ‘We’d like breakfast.’ 

‘Help yourself. You can pay in the main office.’ she replied, then walked out. Jim looked back at Ross and Ross shrugged. Jim followed her into the office. When he got to the counter she sighed and took the two twenties he offered her, then handed him back his change. Jim could see she was struggling to hold her tongue and decided that it would offer a useful opening to the conversation he really wanted to have. 

‘It’s all right, Carol.’ he said and she flinched. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’ 

‘I felt so awful.’ she said, the corners of her mouth turned down. ‘They shouldn’t have said what they did. I have told the owner, but honestly he’s just as bad. Told me that as long as you didn’t kick up about it, I should keep my mouth shut as long as I want to keep my job.’ Her eyes were averted. ‘Ben and Ricky are jerks. They have always been jerks and it impacts on us when they do something like they did last night. That family was scheduled to stay another week but they’ve left.’ She looked at Jim. ‘I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave as well. Knowing that those two live within a two mile radius from here wouldn’t make me very comfortable.’ 

‘Really?’ Jim said, his ears pricking up at that bit of information. ‘Well, if it’s any consolation we don’t hold you responsible for the actions of two people that clearly haven’t heard that the world has moved on.’ He smiled at her. ‘Don’t worry about it. But I am quite keen on making a complaint about their behaviour. Who would I go see to do that?’ 

‘There is a ranger station up at the Hetch Hetchy entrance but it’s only open during the day and those two jerks are currently the ones manning it.’ Carol said. ‘Other than that you can speak to anyone down at the other entrances.’ 

‘Thank you.’ Jim said. ‘We’ll be sure to avoid them. I don’t feel like a round of homophobic epithets is quite what I’m looking for today.’ His attention was caught by the collection of obnoxiously bright fridge magnets next the till. It was the kind of cheap Americana that Ross was addicted to. He took one and handed it to her. ‘It’s a pity that they spoil a place as lovely as this.’

Back in the dining room, he found Ross ploughing through a plateful of scrambled eggs, bacon and hash browns. He gave Jim a happy smile and Jim went to get his own plate of food. When he came to sit down he handed Ross the fridge magnet and Ross’ whole face lit up. He leaned over and planted a kiss on Jim’s cheek.

‘Thank you baby.’ he said and Jim gave him an indulgent smile. 

‘You’re welcome.’ he replied. 

**********

After breakfast Jim drove them along the Tioga Road towards the Big Oak entrance, his sharp blue eyes taking in everything. There was a small dirt road going off to the right, the entrance gate chained up. He slowed and Ross looked out the window. 

‘You think that’s it?’ he asked and Jim nodded. 

‘She said a two mile radius.’ he replied and nodded at the odometer. ‘Not clicked over yet.’ He grinned at Ross. ‘Shall we have a look?’ 

There was a service road another mile down. Jim pulled off onto it and drove until the truck was out of sight. They got out and walked back along the tarred road until they got to the chained gate and climbed over it. About twenty minutes down they came to a pair of clapboard buildings. A quick scout around revealed them to be houses and poorly secured ones at that. Jim peered in the kitchen window of the one closest to the road and then dug in his back pocket for a pair of black latex gloves. Ross saw him and frowned. 

‘You going in?’ he asked and Jim nodded. 

‘Keep an eye out for me.’ he said and Ross sighed and stomped off to the front of the house. Jim watched him go with a grin. He never let Ross go in with him. Ross was clumsy and had a knack for knocking things over. 

The kitchen window had a simple latch system. Jim flipped open the blade of the knife he was a carrying on him and slid it carefully between the frame and the sill, lifting it gently until he could manoeuver the catch up and work the window open. Then he closed the blade and placed the knife back in his pocket. The next thing was to pull himself up and into the window. Once inside, he retrieved a pair of shoe covers from his back pocket and put them on, then closed the window behind him after making sure he’d left no fibres caught on the frame. 

The kitchen was spartan, a typical bachelor’s kitchen with a couple of TV dinners in the fridge and a crate of beers next to it. Jim poked around and went from room to room. He found evidence of a life lived in mundane comfort and it irked him enormously. In the living room though he found something that was of interest. Over a desk under one of the screened windows was a map. It showed all the relevant points in the park as well as the roads. What interested Jim was that it also showed roads which weren’t on the official map that the ranger at the entrance had handed him on the first day. In particular it showed three service roads marked as dirt or gravel which led up to the Lake Eleanor Ranger Station via different routes as well as the Forestry routes that ran around Lake Eleanor and Cherry Valley Lake, one of which actually came off the road from just before Mather. It was marked as an old logging road and had the word closed in brackets after it, but Jim knew from experience that old roads, closed or not, were always useable. It was one of the reasons he always stole an off-road vehicle for these kinds of projects. Not that he would need one for this. The ranger’s own vehicle would suffice.

He left the house the same way he entered, giving the window a light bump to drop the window catch back into place. Ross was standing off the road, about five feet into the brush, smoking. When he saw Jim, he smiled and flicked the ember off his cigarette, grinding it out underfoot, then took a plastic zip lock packet from his pocket and bagged the butt. 

‘Got what you need?’ he asked and Jim nodded. 

‘I do.’ he said. They walked back to the car and turned around and continued down the road towards Big Oak. 

They spent the rest of the day in the Yosemite valley which was practically deserted. They stopped multiple times to let Ross take pictures. He even managed to convince Jim to pose with him for selfies, arms around each other and faces together. At the Valley Visitor centre Ross charmed the ranger on duty into taking some snaps of them, him and Jim looking at each other adoringly. Jim teased him about it for the rest of the day. They hiked up to Yosemite Fall and Ross ate Twinkies while Jim made gagging noises. They got to the viewing area at the mid-point of the trail and Ross got on his knees and blew Jim while he was leaning back against the rail with the view in the background. 

By the time they got back to Tioga Road it was dark, and well after seven. Jim parked on the same service road as before and they walked back to the rangers’ houses. This time they kept off the road, moving slowly and quietly through the brush. The lights were on when they got there and they saw the Parks vehicle outside the first house. 

Jim led the way and Ross followed, both of them making no noise as they watched from a safe distance. The rangers from the previous night were both in residence, one parked in front of the TV with a dated looking porn film on the screen. The other was at the kitchen table, eating his dinner and having a heated conversation with someone called Diane. 

They watched them both until Jim nudged Ross and they retreated back the way they had come.


	6. Enter Stage Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim makes a plan for the week. Ross gets concerned but he doesn't know why.

_Before_

 

On the Monday Jim called work and cited a family emergency. He was a diligent worker who never stepped out of line or took sick leave so his boss was more than happy to give him the time off. Jim, who hated loose ends, called Silver and told him to cover for him. Silver was more than happy to once he’d wangled a promise from Jim to come home for Christmas. Jim, who abhorred the heat, begrudgingly agreed. Once he had hung up he called Jana and told her come over, packed a bag and figured out what to do next.

Tracking someone wasn’t new to him. Jim had done it enough times when he was still working for Silver, and tracking someone across the Caribbean was a hell of a lot more difficult than tracking someone through New York. A quick perusal through the collection of forged passports he still had from his drug smuggling days yielded one that was deemed suitable and Jim was ready. His game plan was simply to go and book into one of the ubiquitous youth hostels that crowded the Upper West Side, pretend to be a British backpacker and so be free to come and go as he pleased.

Jana arrived twenty minutes after he called her, carrying her own bag. She neither wanted to know nor cared where exactly he was going. She had her own problems to worry about. Jim watched as she carted her things into the spare room that was hers to use as and when she needed it. Her girlfriend was a complete and utter bitch and Jana had her own key and the apartment had become something of a refuge for her, although she always cleared it with Jim first whether or not she could stay over. But it was very convenient for those nights he might be otherwise detained.

‘You will be back Saturday, yes?’ she asked when she came into the living room.

‘I will be back Saturday, yes.’ Jim replied, grinning at her. He teased her mercilessly about her English. Jana glared at him.

‘You are terrible boss.’ she said, folding her arms. ‘You make fun of me all times.’

‘It’s very hard not to when you simply refuse to speak the language correctly.’ Jim said. He knelt down and Zeus and Apollo trotted over to him and got up, their front paws on his knees. Jim kissed them each on their silky heads and gentled their ears. ‘You boys be good. Jana can ill afford more grey hair.’ He got up and smiled blindingly in the face of her annoyance. ‘Try not to have any fun. I know how it goes against your principles.’

‘You don’t pay me enough to put up with your bullshit.’ Jana snipped and turned her back on him to stalk into the kitchen. Jim laughed, gave the dogs each a final pat and then left.

********

He took a subway uptown and then stopped in a public bathroom at the Port Authority Bus Terminal to change into what he thought of as his British backpacker look of jeans and hiking boots and sweatshirt. He folded up his leather holdall and stowed it in the bottom of the cheap backpack he’d bought at a shop two streets over and then packed his clothes and other things on top of it. He changed his phone over for a disposable cell, one of several he kept in a lockbox under a panel at the bottom of his wardrobe along with his forged passports. When he left the rest room, Jim looked like any other young tourist. He was able to pass for early twenties easily and the date in the passport he was carrying put his age at twenty-three, five years younger than he actually was. Being on the shorter side of things made it a lot easier. He got back on the subway, getting off at the 103rd Street stop and walked down Amsterdam to the hostel which was housed in an old pre-war building.

The young woman at the front desk didn’t bat an eye at the passport or the fact that he paid cash. Jim got a bed in a four bed dorm, and went upstairs to go and check out the room, which turned out to be unoccupied as luck would have it. This was most likely because Jim had booked in on a Monday. He threw his backpack on one of the beds and sat down on another, taking out his phone to check the time. It was a little after four.

Time to go to work.

***********

Ross lay on his bed, script in hand, and ran through his lines. He had a six o’clock rehearsal that evening and he still had to get up and feed himself at some stage. All he’d eaten so far was a half box of Cheez-Its and four cups of black coffee. His and Cilla’s shopping trip the other day had not included food.

He shifted and wrinkled his nose at the cloud of odour that rose from the bed sheets. Ross was a self-confessed slut in all senses of the word. He hated cleaning and hadn’t bothered to change the bed sheets since he and Christian had merrily fucked their way into the early hours of Saturday morning. The place was actually due a proper spring clean, but Ross was simply too lazy to get up and do it. He leaned over to his bedside table and used his lighter to ignite the sandalwood joss stick standing in the wooden holder next to his reading lamp. Then he took a cigarette out of his rapidly diminishing pack and lit it, blowing the smoke towards the ceiling in a cloud.

‘You are a filthy, disgusting animal.’ Cilla said from the doorway and Ross peered over the page to see her leaning in the doorway. She was naked under her kimono, one pointed breast partially escaping from it as she came into the room. Her thick black hair was tied in a messy knot on top of her head and her make-up was smeared beyond recognition. She’d come in earlier with a blonde girl wearing a uniform for the extremely prestigious girl’s school that was on the other side of Central Park. Judging from the sounds coming from her room, the uniform had not stayed on very long.

‘Cradle snatcher.’ Ross retorted. ‘What the fuck were you doing to her?’ Cilla snickered.

‘Giving her a better time than any male of the species has ever managed to.’ she said smugly. ‘You want to go downstairs and get some ramen while she’s sleeping it off?’

‘Only if you’re paying.’ Ross replied and Cilla smiled.

‘You know, for a rich aristocratic English boy, you are always fucking broke.’ she said. Ross waved two fingers at her. ‘You really need to find yourself a sugar daddy.’ He moved over as Cilla came to sit next to him on the bed, helping herself to one of his cigarettes and lighting it off the one he had in his mouth.

‘Be thankful my parents give me anything.’ he replied. ‘At least it pays the rent. Well, most of it.’ He put one arm around Cilla and she snuggled against him.

‘Your bed smells like cum.’ she said and Ross laughed.

‘Bitch.’ he replied. ‘Better than smelling like pussy.’ Cilla reached up and booped the end of his nose.

‘I’m serious.’ she said. ‘You’re fucking good looking and by all accounts you’re good in bed. You sent that big fairy off with sparkly eyes the other morning. Imagine who you could catch.’

‘I don’t want a sugar daddy.’ Ross said, flicking ash over her shoulder in the general direction of the ash tray and mostly missing. ‘I’m waiting for my Prince Charming.’ Cilla snorted.

‘They don’t exist, trust me.’ she said. ‘What you need is a nice middle aged art critic maybe, or a theatre director. Someone who’ll look after you and love you and keep you in cigarettes.’

‘Yeah, until I die of fucking boredom.’ Ross grumbled. Cilla sat up and looked at him, her strange black eyes piercing.

‘So what do you fucking want?’ she asked, and her voice was serious. ‘Have you even thought about it?’ Ross looked at her and smiled.

‘Of course I have.’ he replied. ‘There’s a special man out there just waiting for me.’ He inhaled deeply on his cigarette. ‘He just doesn’t know it yet. I’ve been in love with him for years.’

‘Really?’ Cilla sounded intrigued. ‘I’ve known you since you got here and this is the first I’m hearing of it.’

‘I don’t tell you everything.’ Ross retorted. ‘Besides it not like he even knows I exist.’

‘Who the fuck is he?’ Cilla was sitting bolt upright now, her face lighting up at potential gossip. ‘Do you have a schoolboy crush on some unattainable celebrity?’

‘Something like that.’ Ross replied.

**********

Cilla finally left him alone to get ready and then change into clean clothes (or at least clothes that passed the smell test). While he was in the shower, Ross pondered what he’d told her. It was true, after a fashion. But then his idea of a celebrity wasn’t like that of most people.

He’d been lost the first time he’d watched it. The crazy thing was that he had no idea who the man was or what he looked like or even how old he was. Not even the FBI had been able to narrow that down. All he knew was that his Prince Charming had a predilection for sharp knives and a taste for literature. And eyes. And post-mortem display.

Ross had seen the documentary advertised and been almost fanatical in his desire to watch it. The case had been in the papers three months before after an unfortunate maintenance crew had come across what the papers called ‘the most bizarre and chilling example of serial murder frenzy’ ever discovered in Manhattan. The killer had taken seven men and laid them out on their backs in a broad sewer pipe underneath a grate, their outstretched arms making up a seven pointed star. Their wrists were bound together with strips of black leather thong and they had all had their throats cut, one singular stroke from left to right which made the killer right handed. They were in different stages of decomposition and laid out from earliest to latest as far as the forensic specialists could tell. Their eyes had been gouged out and were missing, and on their chests were incised quotes, each one done with the tip of a fine blade and related to stars.

The press had had a field day and Ross had fallen in love.

He’d watched the documentary upstairs in his room on his TV, getting progressively harder and harder as the narrator described the depravity of the killer that they were calling The Writer. Ross thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen when they did a crude mock-up of what the scene had looked like. The bodies had been positioned so they could literally look up at the stars through the grate, and no-one had been any the wiser until the smell had gotten too powerful and the maintenance crew had gone in to investigate. The victims had turned out to be from different backgrounds, ethnicities and social-economic classes. A profiler who looked like a sad spaniel had talked at length about how the Writer broke almost all the rules when it came to serial murder.

The very first time Ross had killed, he’d tried to take the eyes. That had given him an appreciation for how difficult it actually was. It had also made him realise that he was in love with blood, in love with the slithery insides of the human body. That nothing compared to being covered in it, tasting it, playing in it.

Even now he still took the eyes.

And if he ever got to meet his Prince Charming, Ross would be sure to tell him just why he did.

*********

Jim sat at the window counter of the ramen shop just down from the apartment block and watched the world go by as he ate. The food was good, cheap and plentiful and he took his time. He’d gone to go scout out the building earlier, noting that there was a security door activated by a buzz-in system, just like every low end apartment block. It was unfortunately extremely sturdy and Jim really didn’t want to take the risk of buzzing until someone let him in. It would be much easier to attempt to steal a set of keys.

He was so lost in thought that at first he thought he was seeing things. There was a glimpse of long legs and dark curls and then the door of the ramen shop opened and Jim heard his voice. He didn’t know why it was still so clear in his head. It might have been the British accent, although there were plenty of those in New York. It might have been the undercurrent of the South West he heard in Ross’ voice which made him think of rocky beaches and deep blue water. Jim really wasn’t sure.

Ross was with the same woman Jim had seen him with on Saturday, and they passed behind him to go to the counter. Jim risked a quick glimpse over his shoulder and saw that Ross was in a black shirt and grey jeans tucked into what seemed to be his ubiquitous work boots which were sadly the product of fashion and not practicality Jim couldn’t help but notice. His thick dark hair was artfully messy and tucked behind his ears and he had a black leather messenger bag across his chest with a khaki parka draped over it. There was a length of black leather cord wound around his left wrist and for the first time Jim noticed a tattoo on the inside of it, although he couldn’t make out what it was. The man was a walking New York stereotype and the more Jim looked at him, the more desirable he became.

It was beyond farcical.

He went back to his ramen, his sensitive ears tuned for the sound of Ross’ voice.

**********

‘So you going to come out with me tonight after you’re done with rehearsal?’ Cilla asked and Ross shook his head.

‘No.’ he said. ‘I am going to go home and have a decent night’s sleep for a change.’

‘You can sleep when you’re dead.’ Cilla protested, giving him her prettiest pout. Ross laughed and shook his head.

‘No.’ he repeated. ‘Besides my room needs a clean. I have fucking cum all over my bed and it’s getting to the point where I can’t ignore it anymore.’

‘Fine, be a party pooper.’ Cilla said. They got their drinks and their order ticket and went over to a booth at the back. Ross sat with his back to the wall as he always did. As he looked up a man walked towards the door, head down. He seemed strangely familiar to Ross, although he couldn’t see his face and didn’t have the faintest idea why he’d caught his attention. He had an odd feeling he couldn’t explain, like a prickle of pins and needles between his shoulder blades. Cilla drank half her green juice and frowned at him, then waved her hand in front of her face.

‘Yo.’ She said with a grin. ‘Seen an ex-boyfriend?’

‘No.’ he replied, sipping at his own. ‘So where are you headed tonight?’

‘Wherever the wind takes me, baby.’ Cilla said and winked at him.

*********

After they had finished eating, Ross left Cilla back at the apartment with her blonde and walked down Amsterdam to the subway station and took the A train down to 50th Street. He was disquieted though. He hadn’t quite been able to kick the feeling something was off.

While not a prolific killer, Ross was usually a more or less careful one. The three people he’d killed had all been victims of opportunity, simply in the right place at the right time in the right circumstances. Ross was well aware that he was sloppy in a lot of ways, and he had kept himself under tight rein for just that reason. Even in a place as big and anonymous as New York, being what he was and giving vent to it was still not a good idea. The down side of that was that he was anxious and strung out and nervy, something he’d been for the past three months after the buzz from his last kill had worn off. It had been so much easier in France. There he’d had a chateau to run around, an estate to get lost in. Mathilde hadn’t given a fuck what he’d gotten up to, unlike his perpetually nosy and disapproving parents. Still he was the oldest Poldark heir and that meant something in his parents’ social circle, and Joshua and Grace would have done anything to keep their social standing intact. Which meant packing him off to his reclusive great aunt in Normandy.

Ross shifted and leaned against the side of the subway car. That was probably it. It had been too long and he was feeling it. Every three months wasn’t enough for him. It was a craving worse than any addiction on Earth and all the cigarettes and quick fucks in the world weren’t enough to substitute. Christian had been fun in bed, but after they were done and smoking the joint that he’d brought out, all he’d fucking talked about was how unhappy he was because his boyfriend was tired of him and he was about to get dumped because he was dating someone with what he described as ‘serious commitment issues and the attention span of a gnat’. Ross had found that very amusing, especially seeing as Christian had done as much flirting as he had and been less than bothered when said boyfriend had saluted Ross with his beer and promptly left them to it. An hour later he’d had his cock up Ross’ arse and seemed to be completely happy with the situation. But then had come the talking and eventually Ross had gone next door to Cilla’s room and asked her for a couple of her Internet Valium so he could knock Christian out. To be honest, Ross would have been bored with him as well.

He got to 50th Street and got off, putting on his headphones and losing himself in the evening rush hour. It was a twenty minute walk to the theatre and this way he could clear his head before he went and became someone else for the evening.

*********

From down the car, Jim saw Ross get off and followed, blending into the crowd easily. Being short meant he could move quickly and disappear behind people when he needed to, something he’d learned to do effortlessly. He followed Ross along the platform and up the staircase, noting that he was now wearing headphones. Jim found himself wondering what kind of music he listened to.

He had to hang back briefly as Ross stopped and dug his cigarettes out of a pocket of his bag, lighting one with a Zippo he had stowed in his front pocket. Jim disapproved of smoking, but he had to admit that Ross’ profile did look striking in the flare of the flame he held. Then he gave himself a mental kick in the bollocks for thinking that.

Ross moved quickly and Jim found himself trotting along to keep him in sight, reminding himself that this was why he didn’t go for the long legged hyperactive type. At one point he thought he’d lost him, only for Ross to pop up again much closer to Jim than he’d been, having stopped in at a kiosk to buy more cigarettes. Jim was close enough to notice the distinctive blue and yellow pack in Ross’ hand. That unnerved him, and he’d fallen back to a safer distance.

Ross finally slowed as he got to a small theatre with a light display for A Streetcar Named Desire above the entrance. Jim watched as he went in the door to the side and a couple more things fell into place. He waited a good ten minutes before he went over and looked in the glassed in promotional display and there he was.

The picture was a good one. Ross looked moody and sensitive and all the shit that went along with being a so-called actor these days. The publicity still was in black and white and the exposure on the lens had been a little too high so Ross’ eyes had come out looking a lot lighter than they probably were. Jim had only been able to tell they were dark in the dim light of the apartment and he felt a surge of irritation that he had no idea what their actual colour was. He noted that Ross only had a supporting role, but that wasn’t the most interesting bit of information.

Jim now had Ross’ last name. He was amused to note that it seemed suitably dramatic and wondered if it was a stage name.

That would make things a lot easier. Smiling to himself, Jim decided that it was a decent afternoon’s work and turned to take a slow walk back uptown. He felt like walking and it would be light for a couple of hours yet. It was a habit that amused his colleagues no end. He started off in the direction of Central Park, turning the name over in his head.

_Ross Poldark._


	7. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations have begun.

They woke up the next morning after a surprisingly uneventful night. They had had dinner when they got back to the camp and then retired to their cabin to play travel Scrabble which ended up in a fairly extensive play fight because Ross had been attempting to use French words. At ten Jim had switched out the light and they had drifted off together, cuddled up like puppies in a basket.

Ross stood under the stream of water and let it run down the back of his neck. He was keyed up and alert and the water was soothing him back into a state where he could focus on other things, not just what was coming. The hours before a hunt always made him antsy and temperamental, the exact opposite to Jim who became utterly calm and composed. Ross was always amazed at the way he managed to compartmentalise his emotions, shutting them off as effectively as shutting off water from a tap.

He heard the door open and there was a puff of cold air as Jim pulled the shower curtain back and got into the tub behind him. He reached up and then Ross felt the gentle touch of Jim’s hand between his shoulder blades. Jim knew that he was emotional and the simple touch brought Ross back down again, anchoring him back into the here and now.

‘You’re jumpy.’ Jim said, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. ‘You need to calm down.’

‘I know.’ Ross replied. He breathed in deeply and felt Jim smile against his back. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Good.’ Jim said, the sudden briskness in his tone telling Ross that it had started. ‘Now get out and get dressed. We have a lot to do today.’

He obeyed, deferring to Jim as he did in all things when they hunted. He had learned so much in their two years together, but he knew that he could not match Jim’s experience and was happy to let him take the lead. He dried himself off while Jim showered, watching him through the shower curtain.

‘Where first?’ he asked.

‘Out the way we came.’ Jim replied. ‘Then we need to find a place to get back in without being seen. We can keep our heads down until tomorrow and then go get them. We’ll have all of tomorrow night to play.’

‘Night time is my time.’ Ross said absently and Jim huffed a laugh.

‘Sure thing, Laura Palmer.’ he replied and Ross smiled.

‘Your bad influence.’ he said and went into the bedroom to get dressed.

************

They checked out of the cabin at eight and drove along back to the entrance to the park. The CCTV at the ranger booth would pick up their truck leaving and record their license plate. Then it was simply a matter of heading out and doubling back to drive towards Maher. The forestry road Jim had seen on the map would take them up and back into the wilderness towards Lake Eleanor and the deserted summer campground. From there they could pick up one of the Forestry trails and head back to the Hetch Hetchy road and wait out the rangers. Once they had finished packing up for the night and were on their way back, it would simply be a case of lying in wait and getting the jump on them. It was a pretty bold strategy, but they had both decided that it would be better than taking the rangers from their houses. That way, they could head straight back up the road to the reservoir under cover of darkness and do what they needed to do and be well away by daybreak. The ranger’s vehicle could be concealed somewhere along the forestry road and the bodies dumped as was convenient.

It was greyer than the day before and Ross, who was on driving duty, took his time travelling south towards Valley View before they would turn back onto El Portal Road and leave the park via the Arch Rock entrance. Jim was looking out his window, feet braced against the dashboard, lost deep in thought. Ross knew he was thinking about the night to come, his clinical mind going through every conceivable even that could occur, every possible fuck up that could happen, and it was best to leave him too it. Jim got snippy as fuck before a hunt. But Ross never begrudged him this, knowing that without Jim’s obsessive attention to detail they would probably have been caught a long time ago. In fact, it was only when they had gotten together and their romantic and sexual relationship had tripped over into their extra-curricular relationship that Ross had seen just how lucky he had been to never get caught. Jim was exceptionally careful forensically and there was precious little left behind to implicate either of them in any of the deaths they had caused.

They got to the park exit and left the park, heading west on the I-140 towards El Portal. It was a decent drive, about three hours in total, and Jim now had a forestry map open on his lap. He had mapped out a fairly long and convoluted route north to the 120 using the forestry routes until they could cross over and head up Feretti Road. It was a long drive and the roads were tricky, but Ross was now used to driving in the Catskills and the mountain roads wouldn’t bother him. The truck was in peak condition anyway and they had two full cannisters of extra fuel in the back along with the other gear that people would assume were the accoutrements of an outdoors life, but which were put to a far more sinister use.

There were two coils of rope, the strong and flexible kind used by climbers. Ross wasn’t a fan, preferring the easy convenience of cable ties. Jim liked it though, his yachtsman’s hands crafting intricate knots easily and with so much skill that Ross had a serious case of competency kink whenever he watched him. There was a tool kit and a first aid kit that held some things that most people would not expect to find, but Jim had taught him that somethings could hide in plain sight. So in the tool kit was a heavy headed hammer and nine inch nails and the aforementioned cable ties. The first aid kit held a few brown glass bottles labelled as essential oils, tea tree and lavender and citronella, the real contents of which were anything but therapeutic. Jim’s knives stayed out of sight, but even those could all be explained away as the tools of an outdoorsman. He only carried four – the Delica, a short bladed Dragonfly and a Rescue as well as a Myerchin G10 in its leather holder with the accompanying marlin spike. These were all rolled up in the black canvas knife roll under his seat. Ross of course only had his hunting knife from Mathilde and his combat knife, but was equally happy to use whichever one Jim gave him. He loved the Rescue, its serrated blade perfect for slicing through flesh and cartilage, and the knowledge that once he was done with it he would hand it back to Jim and watch how he neatly dismembered those they killed gave Ross an added thrill when he used it. The only other weapon they owned was Jims Sig Sauer P226, a completely legal firearm that Jim owned and held a concealed carry permit for.

‘There.’ Jim said and Ross noticed the fork in the road ahead. ‘Go left.’ Ross followed the instruction and they turned off the tarred road onto a dirt track. They were now entering the Forestry routes which would mostly be dirt until they got back to the 120. A few miles down the road was a flat area where cars obviously stopped, and they did as well. The whole valley was laid out before them and they both leaned back against the bonnet of the car and drank it in.

‘It’s pretty.’ Ross said and Jim hummed in agreement.

‘It’s big.’ he replied and Ross smiled at that.

‘Not like home.’ he said and Jim huffed a laugh.

‘England hasn’t been home for a very long time.’ he said and Ross heard a wistful note in his voice. He knew Jim’s backstory, the tale of his parents’ death. Or at least the version Jim had told him. Ross wasn’t unconvinced that there was more to that than Jim had said. Not that he held it against his husband. They both edited things. The one thing Ross had realised was that no-one, not even him, really knew Jim. He was probably the one who could say that he knew Jim best, although Silver ran a close second. Ross liked his new father-in-law. They got on very well, both of them being quite used to playing different parts and hiding their true natures. Ross felt like he could let his guard down around Silver, joke with him and be himself. Silver didn’t find him odd or inappropriate. And of course they both had Jim in common, the bright sun at the centre of their combined universe. Ross had never thought he would find someone who loved Jim as much as he did, but he’d been pleasantly surprised to discover that Silver loved Jim like his own child and the pride when he spoke about him was obvious to everyone.

‘Stop daydreaming and help me switch the number plates out.’ Jim’s voice broke through Ross’ thoughts.

‘Whatever you say, babe.’ he replied with a grin. Jim moved around to the back of the truck on the left side and knelt down. They kept the alternate set of plates under the car out of sight, another simple trick that made them just one step further from discovery. They had stolen them off a vehicle in Louisiana two years before, another little excursion that had been extremely entertaining for them both. It didn’t take long to switch the plates and they climbed back into the truck to eat lunch, a couple of sandwiches and some crisps they had bought from the lodge office before leaving. Ross munched steadily through his, then snaffled the remaining crisps from Jim’s packet.

‘Ratbag.’ Jim said affectionately, giving him a shove. Ross took the initiated physical contact as an opportunity to crowd Jim up against the passenger door and kiss him, the taste of salt strong in Jim’s mouth. Jim kissed him back and Ross could feel the pent up excitement in him. Jim hid it extremely well, but he shook under Ross’ wandering hands and when Ross pressed in, Jim opened his mouth to him without hesitation.

‘Fuck, I want you.’ Ross breathed when they came up for air, looking into the perfectly still blue-green eyes. Jim blinked slowly at him, and Ross kissed him again. It grew in fervour until they were both breathing hard through their noses, tongues tangled together. Eventually Ross felt Jim’s hands on his chest, pushing him away.

‘Enough.’ he said, and his voice was rough, his eyes too bright. ‘We both need to calm the fuck down.’ Ross huffed in annoyance but let Jim push him away.

‘Fine.’ he said. ‘But you owe me a seriously hard fuck tomorrow.’

‘That will not be a problem.’ Jim said and there was a tiny glimmer of snark in it. It made Ross’ heart skip a beat as he thought of what was to come.

*********

They got to the I-120 three hours later, their trip having passed completely uneventfully. As Jim had predicted, there had been no one to see them pass. All the tourists had gone back home, this grey and unprepossessing season holding no attraction for people in love with grand vistas and bright colours. It was a short drive west along the 120 to get to Ferretti Road and then another turn north. The road remained tarred this time. Ross paid attention to where they were going, watching for other vehicles. Jim was also alert, sitting up straight. About a mile up the road there were two turnoffs in quick succession. Ross pulled in under the scrubby pines. The entry to the road they wanted, Forestry Route 1N10, was secured behind a barred iron gate. They got out and walked over to it. There was chain held secure by a fairly standard padlock and Ross grinned. That would take him no time at all. He looked at Jim who gave him one of his one shoulder shrugs.

Ross went to the car to retrieve some gloves from under the passenger seat and came back, snapping them on before taking his picks out of his pocket. Like Jim always carried his multi-tool, Ross was never without them. Mathilde of all people had been the one to teach him how to pick locks and Ross never failed to enjoy showing off to Jim. He stood with his back to the road and Jim moved a few feet from him so he keep look out. Ross took only a couple of seconds to pick the lock and slipped it free from the chain, giving Jim a shrill whistle. Jim immediately went to the truck, getting in and starting it. Ross pulled the gate open and Jim drove it through. Ross closed it behind him and locked it again the same way it had been before, then took a few minutes to grab a couple of fallen bows and brush few tire tracks smooth before chucking the branch into the undergrowth and taking a running start, vaulting easily over the gate and jogging the few metres to the truck. He got in and Jim drove down the dirt road, the clearing behind them quickly dropping out of sight.

The rest of the drive to the place they would be stopping was a long one and by the time they were at the end of their stop, it was starting to get dark. Jim had brought them all the way round using the Forestry routes and they had not passed a single vehicle. They were now on 1N97, making the circuit that would bring them close to Eleanor Creek. Jim got to the bend and drove off the road onto a barely visible track, the truck handling the slightly uneven terrain easily. They got close to Eleanor Creek and there was a stand of trees up ahead, enough to seclude the truck from view. He parked and switched off the engine and the blackness around them was absolute. It was about a fourteen kilometre hike from where they were now to the Hetch Hetchy Gate. The elevation was mild and it wouldn’t be as strenuous as some of the hikes they had done before, although it would be a little rocky.

‘We can start as soon as it’s light.’ Jim said. He leaned back and looked at Ross. ‘We should get as much sleep as we can now, it’s about four hours to get where we need to tomorrow and another four back. We haven’t given ourselves an easy job.’

‘Worth it though.’ Ross said, looking at him. He could barely see Jim in the darkness of the truck’s cab. ‘I have a good feeling about this one.’

‘Me too.’ Jim said and Ross could hear he was smiling.

They got out the truck, setting up their tent close to the creek. It would have surprised most people that knew then to see that they were efficient and practised campers. Once they were done, they settled in to eat the self-heating MREs they had in their gear. They were quiet, both of them mulling over the coming day. They wandered down to the creek together to brush their teeth and Ross looked up as the clouds moved and the stars came out. The night air was frigid and he shivered, in spite of his down jacket.

‘We’re going to freeze to death out here.’ he said and Jim gave that soft half-laugh of his.

‘And you have grand ideas about climbing Everest.’ he said, his voice gently mocking. Ross snorted and kicked him in the ankle, then almost fell over in the dark. That made the half-laugh turn into a proper one as Jim reached out and steadied him.

‘You are such a klutz.’ he said.

‘You sound like an American.’ Ross retorted, knowing how much that got up Jim’s nose.

‘Careful.’ Jim said and there was a sharpness to his voice that told Ross he was treading a fine line. ‘I might decide to just leave you here.’

‘You wouldn’t.’ Ross said. He stepped into Jim’s space and stuck both cold hands under Jim’s jacket on his wonderfully warm stomach. That got a hiss but Jim didn't push him away. ‘You love me far too much.’ He located Jim’s mouth in the dark and kissed him, lips lingering as he tightened his grip on him.

‘Yes.’ Jim breathed when Ross finally let him go. ‘I love you far too much.’ Ross felt slightly hopeful at that declaration, but his expectations were dashed when they went to sleep and Jim very decidedly did not make any moves on him.

The light came at just after quarter past six in the morning. Ross awoke to find Jim already up and rolling up his sleeping bag. As predicted, once they were in the tent and inside their sleeping bags they had been warm enough and Ross has slept well in the stillness that surrounded them.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Jim watched him, his dimples flickering.

‘You are far too cute for your own good in the morning.’ he said and then got up and left the tent, taking his gear with him.

‘I love you.’ Ross called after him.

‘I love you back.’ The faint answer drifted in along with a breeze that promised a fairly nice day. The sky was clear when Ross finally extricated himself. He went down to the creek to wash his face, happily marking one of the trees on the way (peeing outdoors was one of the best things about camping in his opinion). Jim was already there, his blond hair spiky and damp. He gave Ross a gorgeous dimpled smile and looked back at the sky.

‘Looks like a beautiful day.’ he said.


	8. Me and My Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim gets to know Ross a little better.

_Before_

Seven days later, Jim stood waiting for Ross to come out his apartment block. He had pretty much worked out his comings and goings as best he could, but Ross was like most actors in New York which was to say sporadically employed and prone to very unorthodox hours with little to no predictability with regards to how he spent his time. Today, however, was the opening of his play and Jim knew that he would be at the theatre all day. Not only that, but Cilla was on a shoot and Andreas was out of town.

Yes, Jim had learned a lot in a week.

He was also supposed to be coming back from his fictitious emergency trip that evening, so this was the last feasible time he could do this. Jim reached into his pocket and ran his fingers over the keys inside. He’d tracked Cilla for a while, correctly presuming her to be the easiest link in the chain to break. He’d been right. She had turned out to be very lax in her personal security and Jim had discreetly lifted her bunch of keys from the table of the bar she’d been in two nights before. A quick trip to a locksmith of dubious moral character the day after (the ones he’d lifted had been handed in to the bar staff the night before) and now Jim was in possession of a spare set of keys that would get him into Ross’ apartment.

This thought excited him far more than was acceptable.

Jim was getting concerned, there was no getting away from it. He’d never paid anyone this much attention before, especially not someone he had no interest in visiting. But the longer he watched Ross, the more intrigued he became. Jim knew that he shouldn’t but he found the man fascinating, although it was mystery as to why. Ross was a chain smoker, had the most appalling taste in take-out food and wore t-shirts that no-one should have been allowed to go outside in. He had a deep braying laugh that got right up Jim’s nose and was simultaneously the most addictive sound he’d ever heard. Not only that but he smelled amazing, leaving behind an alluring trail of that mysterious aftershave he wore. The tattoo on the inside of his wrist had turned out to be a simple Eye of Horus done in stylised black ink. Jim wondered if it was simply a fashion statement or of it had some deeper significance.

The door of the apartment block opened and Ross came out. Today’s jeans were washed out blue and the t-shirt was maroon. There was pair of black Wayfarers perched on top of his head. He let the door slam behind him and started striding down the street on those long legs of his. Jim watched him go, a half smile on his face.

Time to find out.

The trick to being invisible, he’d discovered, was simply to belong as if he had a right to be where he was. It took pure confidence to waltz through life as he did, performing the kind of magic that made people simply vanish into thin air. Jim was very very good at it, but that was because he had been doing it for years. Even before he’d started killing for business, and then killing for pleasure, Silver had used him to carry drugs and money between the UK and the Bahamas. No-one had ever stopped him, and Jim had learned early on to use his angelic face and friendly demeanour to good effect. He’d been a hardened criminal by the time he was fourteen, an experienced mule who put on his sweetest smile and flashed his dimples and carried through enough contraband stashed inside his suitcase to collectively overdose the whole of London.

He crossed the road and took the keys out of his pocket, unlocking the front door and finding himself in a tiled hallway with the traditional row of post boxes along one wall. Jim knew the apartment was on the third floor. The woman Ross lived with, Cilla if he had it right, had hung out of her window while Jim had had the good fortune to be watching. He’d also been treated to her screeching at a very elegantly dressed man about how small his cock was. He stopped in front of the mailboxes and noted that there were four apartments on the third floor. From there it was a quick jog up the stairs into a thankfully deserted corridor. The building was just run down enough to be occupied by people who really didn’t care much about the comings and goings of others.

Jim got to the door that approximated the position of the windows and tried the key. It slid home and turned perfectly and he smiled to himself. It was a quick dip into his back pocket for gloves and then he went inside and locked the door behind him.

The first thing he noticed was the smell.

Jim had always had a somewhat heightened olfactory sense. He loved smell and nothing could create a mood for him quicker that a particular scent. It didn’t have to be pleasant either. Decomposition and rotting blood held as much meaning for him as food or fragrance, although he was particularly devoted to both of those things. It extended to the simple smells that made up his life – fresh filter coffee, varnish, wet asphalt in summer and, more recently, a wash of dry bitterness mixed with earth and vetiver which lingered in the wake of one Ross Poldark. Jim was definitely looking forward to finding out what that particular smell was. He looked around to get his bearings and then did a quick inventory of rooms.

The kitchen was a disaster zone of unwashed dishes and cluttered surfaces. Jim wrinkled his nose at it and bypassed it completely. Having observed Ross’ eating habits for a week, he pretty much despaired of there being anything he’d put in his mouth in the kitchen. The next stop was what should have been the living room. Instead Jim found it converted into a bedroom, with an enormous brass bed plonked right in the middle of it. The abundance of women’s underwear and the location of the window confirmed its owner’s identity. Jim gave it a cursory once over, but it held nothing of interest for him.

The two actual bedrooms were at the back of the apartment, both small and poky. Jim identified Ross’ room immediately from the combination of Camel cigarettes and that gorgeous earthy smell of Ross’ scent. His nostrils flared as he breathed it in deeply and then went inside.

The room itself was spartan. There was a double box bed dressed in dark grey linen. It was unmade the sheets were rumpled as if Ross had just climbed out of them. It was pushed into one corner and there was a small bedside table, cluttered with a lamp, overflowing ashtray and a battered copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude open and face down on it. That surprised Jim and he couldn’t resist brushing his fingers along its spine. Closer inspection showed it to be a first edition. There was also a simple square bottle that proved to be the source of that wonderful scent Ross carried with him. Jim read the writing on the side which said ‘Sel de Vetiver’ and sprayed a puff into the air, letting it settle before inhaling deeply. It was only a phantom of what he sought. The top notes were there but the alluring earthiness was missing. Jim surmised that it must be Ross himself who provided that. This revelation did nothing for his desire to get close enough to find out.

There was a dress rail set up against the wall, the clothes hanging on plastic hangers. Ross’ clothes were a mixture of t-shirts in an array of obnoxious colours and Jim wondered if he was in fact colour blind. But this contrasted with a selection of very expensive looking and well-made cotton shirts in blacks and whites and greys and that lifted his spirits a little. There was a pile of neatly folded skinny jeans below the rail and Jim frowned at the touch of neatness in the sea of disorder. Next to the rail was a suitcase, battered and scratched but when Jim looked at it he recognise it as a Globetrotter and that made things even more interesting. The final piece of furniture was a cheap pine tall boy which contained underwear and socks. There was surprisingly little clutter or possessions that seemed to be personal.

He’d done some research, and found only one family of Poldarks in England, an old and aristocratic family from Cornwall who’d originally made their fortune in tin mining and now was seemingly devoted to investment banking. There were pictures of relatives, young enough for Jim to assume they were cousins, on the web pages of Tatler and OK. It intrigued him as to why Ross was in New York and what had brought him here. He had a feeling the acting was only part of the story. A little disappointed by the seeming lack of personal stuff, Jim went to the bed. The smell coming off of it was powerful and he had an urge to bury his face in the sheets and inhale until the smell consumed him, to roll around in it until he was covered in Ross’ scent. It made him start to get hard and Jim was shocked at his visceral reaction. He stepped back from the bed, almost as if trying to deny what he was feeling, and that was when he saw it. There was a heating vent over Ross’ bed. It had a tarnished brass cover and Jim couldn’t help but notice that one of the screws was not back in straight.

Jim frowned. He was programmed to notice details and having one’s bed directly under the heating vent seemed an odd placement to him, especially in these old buildings which could send cold air though rather than warm. It also meant the bed was in the darkest corner of the room. Jim had his under the window, preferring the abundance of light. That and the crooked screw got his attention. He stepped back to the side of the bed, not able to shake the weird feeling that he needed to get a closer look at it. He dug in his other pocket and took out his penlight LED torch, an indispensable tool of his trade, then placed it on the bed. He couldn’t resist letting his fingers sink into the sheets afterwards, feeling the softness that only came from an extended period of use.

A noise from the window jolted him out of his thoughts, and Jim looked up. There was a pigeon balanced on the windowsill. Jim smiled and then sat down to remove his shoes before picking up the torch and getting onto the bed. A quick examination showed scratch marks around the screw that was crooked, as well as the other three. Jim, who was a veteran of hiding things, shone the beam of light into the grate and was rewarded with a glint of light reflected off glass.

  
‘Bingo.’ he said softly to himself, before sticking the end of the torch between his teeth and taking his multi tool out of his other pocket. He opened it and started with the crooked screw. It took a couple of tries, but eventually Jim managed to work it out of the hole in the vent cover. He stuck it in his front pocket and started on the next one. The screws were surprisingly easy to get out and once he had all four in his pocket, Jim eased the vent cover off and rested it on the bed, face down. He shone the light back into the hole now revealed in the wall and his breath caught when it came to rest on the object inside.

He reached in with one barely trembling hand and took out the jar. It wasn’t very large, probably a reconditioned mayo jar by the looks of things, the label taken off and the lid screwed on and sealed tightly. Jim shone the light onto the jar itself and watched the objects inside gently bob in the fluid inside the jar. They looked strangely ethereal because the liquid was a little murky, and Jim wondered what Ross has used to preserve them. There were three pairs, all clustered together and he noted the damage to the optic nerves and raised an eyebrow as he considered the less than careful hand that had removed them. Two of the pairs were brown, now looking a little muddy, and the third was blue. Jim knew from long experience that they were undoubtedly real.  
That explained a lot, least of which was why Ross had made an impression on him. Jim had recognised one of his own.

‘You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?’ he murmured and then placed the jar back carefully where he’d found it.

**********

Jim went back to the hostel and checked out, then spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the diorama rooms at the Natural History Museum. A few days earlier he’d followed Ross here and watched him do the same thing. Jim had been puzzled as to why Ross would spend time looking at a bunch of stuffed animals (the only museums he frequented were full of art), walking along and trailing his slender fingers across the glass. But now the darkened rooms had a soothing effect on him and allowed him to collect his rattled thoughts and Jim was starting to see the merits in it.

In his bag was a grey t-shirt. Jim had found it under Ross’ bed and it absolutely reeked of him, having clearly been worn for several days and more than likely slept in before being discarded. Closer examination had revealed several white patches on the grey, and Jim had had to bite his lip to stem the involuntary moan that was elicited by the thought of Ross, sweaty and flushed and wiping his hand clean afterwards. There had been no other visitors since Christian, so that was the most likely explanation. When he’d picked it up off the floor, Jim hadn’t even been able to control himself. He was already hard as rock from his discovery in the vent and what it meant for him. He’d buried his face in the t-shirt and images had flooded his mind as the powerful smell of Ross’ unwashed body and secretions had hit him with all the force of a sledge hammer.

_Pale skin and dark hair under his fingers. The taste of earthy saltiness on his tongue. The smells of cum and sweat and blood and saliva, commingling to create a dark rich stench that drew him like a magnet. The sound of moaning and shadows across sharp cheekbones and dark stubble that rasped his face when they kissed._

It was too much. Jim had had to leave pretty quickly after that and take a moment outside the now closed apartment to lean heavily against the wall and get himself under control. It had taken a hell of a lot more effort than he’d expected it too and he had still been breathing unevenly when he descended the stairs.

It hadn’t been a moment too soon. On his way down, Jim had heard the sound of Ross’ room-mate’s voice. She was in the hall talking into her cell very loudly and thankfully was so caught up in the conversation that she didn’t even spare him a glance as he walked past her and out the door. Thankfully he had left the place in exactly the same state as he’d found it, with one notable exception of course, which he prayed would go unnoticed.

He stopped in front of the glassed in display of South American predators and looked at the stuffed black jaguar. Its fur seemed a little faded, but the similarity to the man he’d been stalking was striking. Jim could well imagine Ross as one of these, and the knowledge he’d recently come into possession of had his mind working overtime trying to imagine what Ross was like as a hunter. It had crossed his mind that the eyes in the jar might be completely unconnected with Ross, but Jim had encountered people like himself before. He had subconsciously recognised something in Ross and that was what had driven this week of madness.

Jim sighed and placed his fingers to the glass, just like he’d seen Ross do. He stared at the fingerprints he felt behind, then automatically put the sleeve of his hoodie over his hand and polished them off. It was second nature to him and he often did it without thinking.

He needed to get Ross’ attention, to find out more about him, to see what the fuck this actually was. The question was exactly how he was going to accomplish that.

************

Ross got home late after rehearsals. The play was due to open the following Friday and their schedule was getting more hectic as the time got nearer. He was starting to feel unusually nervous about it was well. He’d done a few Off Off Broadway productions but this was the first one in a theatre this size and Ross wanted to do well.

Acting was something that he had more or less fallen into, but Ross felt he had found his calling in it. He loved every minute of it, especially being able to out on different faces and characters. He’d always been a bit of a chameleon, changing fashion and looks as quickly as the wind changed, although he knew his greatest triumph had been convincing everyone in his life, with one very notable exception, that he was normal. His parents suspected that there was something, had done so since the boy who became his first victim disappeared. But Ross also knew that they had never been able to prove anything to themselves to the extent that they knew what was wrong with him. They had instead shifted the responsibility and sent him to Mathilde. It had been a strange choice, Mathilde only being related to the Poldarks by her marriage to Ross’ great Uncle when he was fifty three and she was sixteen. Now in her forties, she was widowed and happily holed up in her family chateau.

Ross remembered their first meeting when he was only a child. Mathilde’s shrewd grey eyes had watched him carefully, and she’d made an indelible impression on Ross. He had been delighted to go to her once he’d finished school and had spent four very happy years there, taking acting classes in Paris and commuting backwards and forwards to Normandy. By the time he wanted to move to New York, Ross was well-practised in his arts, both professionally and personally. Mathilde had been sorry to see him go, he thought. It was hard to tell. Her pale face was expressionless most of the time.

She was also the only person to ever look at him and see. After a year, Ross had become brave enough to bring one of his visitors home. The following evening Mathilde had presented him with one of her father’s antique hunting blades.

‘This will suit far better than the kitchen knife you used last night.’ she had said. That was when Ross realised that she knew everything he was and everything he did and did not care in the slightest. She looked at him with those almost reptilian eyes of hers and saw the monster for what it was. It was the first night she smiled at him. By the time he left her custody, they were as close as he had ever been to a family member. It was her money that had brought him across and paid for his enrolment at Columbia. And Mathilde had rubbed off on him in those four years, imparting her tastes and excesses almost as if by infection. Ross now spoke fluent French, smoked Camel non-filter cigarettes, drank pastis and wore clothes she sent him. The aftershave that set him apart from the others he mixed with was from her favourite niche perfume house. The tattoo on his wrist was a perfect copy of the one on her ankle.

Many of his acquaintances had thought them to be lovers, until they discovered he was gay. And Ross never ever looked on her like that. She was instead an older sibling, a confidante and a mentor. She had shown him culture and art and taken him to the catacombs under Paris. She had taught him the city and the countryside and given him free run of her home. Ross loved her far more than his own family.

He closed the front door behind him and went into the kitchen to peer into the fridge. There was nothing inside except a half-eaten container of tuna fish salad and a bottle of milk well past it’s sell by date. Ross closed the door and retrieved a box of Fruit Loops from the cupboard next to the cooker and went to his room, munching handfuls of dry cereal as he went. He didn’t bother with the main light as he dumped his bag on the floor by the dress rail. Instead he closed and locked the door behind him and switched on his bedside lamp. It took him a while to unlace his boots, kick them off and then strip out of his shirt, jeans and socks before getting into bed. He wriggled down the bed until he was comfortable then lit a cigarette from his pack on the bedside table while he flipped through his phone, landing on a downloaded file that he’d watched so many times it was imprinted on his brain.

The content was a little avant-garde.

It didn’t take long for his breathing to speed up and his hand to work its way into his briefs. Ross had done this so many times before he knew exactly what was coming at which time and he followed the action with the movement of his hand, coinciding his own climax with the one on the screen, arching back against the pillows and letting out a shuddering breath as he came.

  
He came down slowly and then rolled over to reach under his bed for the discarded t-shirt he’d used for the last two days to clean himself off. Ross reached around a few times and then frowned as he realised it wasn’t where he thought he’d left it. Eventually he actually got off the bed and retrieved his shirt from where he’d dropped it on the floor, cleaned himself off and then went and knelt down so he could look under the bed. The t-shirt was still conspicuously absent.  
Ross stood up, hands on hips and stared accusingly at the empty floor.

‘Fuck.’ he said. While prone to extreme sloppiness, it was a chaos born of order. Ross knew that his grey t-shirt had been lying under the bed that day when he’d left to go to the theatre. It wasn’t there now. Instinctively his eyes flicked up to the heating vent.

He unlocked the bedroom door, threw it open and went to Cilla’s room. He went in without bothering to knock and found her lying prone on her back with both legs in the air. She was wearing yoga pants and a luminous pink bra. Ross stared at her.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he asked.

‘Meditating.’ she replied without opening her eyes. ‘What do you want?’

‘Have you been in my room?’ he asked.

‘No.’ she replied. ‘Why?’

‘No reason.’ he said and left her room, shutting the door behind him. Andreas was out, no doubt selling his firm derriere downtown. Ross went back into his room and shut the door again. The bizarre unease he’d been feeling all week flared into panic.

Someone had been in his room. That someone wasn’t Cilla, and was very unlikely to have been Andreas. Ross contemplated the situation for a moment and then called the one person he could trust. The call rang for a full minute on the other side before she answered.

‘ _Mathilde_.’ Ross said. ‘ _Je pense que j’ai un probleme_.’


	9. Into the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: Violence and murder.

They had a breakfast of cereal bars, apples and juice boxes before packing all their gear up and stowing it back in the truck under the canopy. Ross was now watching Jim pack one day pack with the things they would need. The first aid kit that held the little brown bottles that could kill over fifty people between them, his knives, plastic heavy duty garbage bags, a roll of duct tape and several pairs of gloves went into his pack. The cable ties, hammer and nails went into Ross’. On top of that in each pack went a change of clothes, a bottle of hand sanitiser and more food – dried fruit, beef jerky, chocolate bars and glucose sachets to counteract the massive adrenaline rush they both encountered and the subsequent drop after killing. A water bottle went into the side pocket of each pack. The last thing that went into Ross’ pack was a bottle of lube and Jim gave him a smile when he saw that. He was strapping the .45 at the base of his spine, well concealed under his coat. Jim had never used it before in Ross' knowledge, he only kept it as a necessary back-up should things go so horribly tits-up he would be compelled to draw and fire it. Guns were, in Jim's estimation, a brutal and unrefined way to bring about someone's demise. That didn't stop him from being frighteningly competant with the weapon though. He'd taken Ross to a firing range a few times, insistent that Ross learn how to use it for his own safety. Tha last thing he needed, Jim said, was a partner who could not save him or themselves through an inability to shoot straight. Ross had hated it, hated the jump, the almost aggressive straining of his arms as he fired. He had felt out of place with it in his hands, clumsy and at odds with something that felt far from natural for him. He had thought that the firearm would hold no attraction or him at all. But then he'd watched as Jim took it from his hands and reloaded it quickly and efficiently, adopted the stance he used for firing, one leg back to take the force of the recoil, the other lightly ahead for balance. He'd raised the gun, so perfectly at home with it that the move had been balletic, and fired off six shots one straight after the other. His breathing had not escalated in the slightest and when he'd hit the button that had brought the target flying towards them, Ross had seen that they were grouped right over where the heart would have been. Jim had half turned, one dimple winking at Ross. It had taken every ounce of self-control Ross possessed to keep his hands off him on the taxi ride home. When they'd gone inside it had been another matter. They had fucked for hours and every time Jim had tried to leave him, Ross had pulled him back with greedy hands.

‘Slut.’ he said. Ross ignored him.

The plan was to snatch the rangers from the station just after they left for the evening. The visitor’s centre at Hetch Hetchy was already closed for the year, and they could use the rangers’ own vehicle to drive them north on Evergreen Road and then take the small power boat kept there to get them far along the north shore. He and Jim had seen it when they had gone to Hetch Hetchy the day before they had checked into White Wolf Lodge. Ross had even joked that it would be a good place to hide a body while they had been standing on the dam wall and looking out over the placid water. Once they were done it would be simplicity itself to return the vehicle to where they had found it, then hike back to where their own car was stashed. The bodies would take care of themselves, out in the wild where they would make good food for the coming winter. 

Ross did up the catches on his day pack and shouldered it, shifting the straps until they sat comfortably enough. Jim did the same and then pulled his beanie over his blond hair. Ross walked over to him, getting him by the straps of his pack and kissed him. Their breath steamed in the cold air when they separated. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to. 

This was their quiet before they jumped off the cliff hand in hand. Jim raised one hand to Ross’ face, stroking along Ross’ lower lip. 

‘My beautiful boy.’ he said and Ross smiled at him. ‘I do love you.’ Ross dipped his head, catching Jim’s wrist and turning it so he could kiss the inside just above Jim’s sleeve, the skin soft under his lips.

‘I love you too.’ he replied.

They set out, walking across the out limits of the park, their pace a steady three to four miles per hour. Ross took the lead, his longer stride marking out the trail they left. Once they were done here, the boots they wore would end up in a dumpster far from Yosemite, maybe on the feet of some poor soul who needed them more or in landfill. Either option was good.

He loved it out here, the broadness of the land and the open spaces. Yosemite hadn’t quite recovered from the fire that had ravaged it. Ross let his eyes roam across the land, the stark colours and lack of features appealing to him. He had hiked at home as well, the craggy coastline of Cornwall calling to him like a siren. When he went to France, Brittany and Normandy had replaced Cornwall and he’d tramped along their long beaches and through their forests whenever he had had time. Ross had forgotten how much he loved it when he went to New York. Concrete structures and alleyways had replaced the open lands he had roamed, and when he met Jim he had been shown the caverns and tunnels under the city where Jim hid his toys. 

So being outdoors and breathing great lungfuls of air that was pristine compared to the pollution he breathed in on a daily basis was invigorating and Ross strode along happily. Jim was a few strides behind him, his contemplation slowing him down. Ross turned and looked at him, love washing over him in great waves as Jim stopped to stare into the distance. 

They were on the way south. They had crossed over from the north bank of Eleanor Creek to where it joined Cherry Creek, following the route on their handheld GPS units. 

‘We turn across the river when it bends at 37°N 119°W.’ Jim said behind him. ‘Then we head due west until we get to the Tuolumne.’

‘And across over Preston falls?’ Ross asked.

‘Too far south.’ Jim said. ‘There’s a line of natural ridges that lead down to a ford where we can cross safely, then another line of them leading out again. Once we get to the top it’s flat all the way along.’ 

‘We won’t get there before it gets dark though.’ Ross said. ‘Sunset is only at four thirty.’

‘So we wait.’ Jim said. 

***********

They did wait. 

It was pleasant down by the river and they reached it in three hours as predicted. The walk down was a little sticky, loose ricks rattling under their boots. When they got to the bottom, they found a couple of level rocks and sat down to eat lunch. The wrappers were safely stowed back in their packs and then they stretched out to enjoy the late autumn sun, Ross on his back with his head in Jim’s lap. Jim leaned on one hand, stroking the fingers of the other through the thick dark curls.

‘I like this.’ he said and Ross lifted his hand to keep the setting sun out of his eyes as he looked up at him. Today Jim’s eyes matched the anaemic blue sky behind him.

‘What?’ he asked and Jim smiled and wrapped a strand of dark hair around his forefinger. 

‘This. The quiet. You.’ Jim said. ‘Out here there is no noise in my head.’ His fingers let go of Ross’ hair and traced the line of his right eyebrow. Ross pushed his hand away and sat up so he could face him. Their eyes met and held for a long time before Jim leaned forward and kissed him. It was a kiss of easy intimacy, deepening of its own accord. Their tongues did a lazy dance until both of them pulled back by unspoken agreement. 

‘We could always move down here.’ Ross said, his nose tracing a line down Jim’s face. ‘Chuck it all in and live in the great outdoors.’ Jim chuckled.

‘You’d never leave New York.’ he said. ‘It’s under your skin.’

‘A little.’ Ross replied. ‘But I miss France.’ Jim nodded slowly. 

‘I know, baby.’ he said. 

‘And you could work there.’ Ross said. ‘And Mathilde would have us until we were on our feet.’

‘Maybe in a few more years.’ Jim replied. ‘Once we are both more established.’ He checked his watch. ‘It’s three thirty. We should get going.’

They got up, dusting themselves off and shouldering their packs. The walk up the ridge that led from the ford was challenging and got the blood pumping and warmed them even as the air temperature dropped. By the time they got to the top, they were both breathing hard, their breath steaming in the evening air. 

At the top of the ridge stretched an expanse of flat land, hard-worn and treeless. The two of them walked briskly along, using the last streams of fading light. The stand of trees where the Hetch Hetchy entrance gate stood was now in sight. As they walked, the last rays dipped below the horizon and the sun sank out of sight completely and dark started to take over. By the time they hit the treeline, it was a velvety deep blue overhead, the stars coming out like holes pricked in a piece of black paper. 

There was no talking now, only the briefest clasping of hands as they went into the trees together, a light squeeze that signalled their togetherness in this, as in all things. It had been the same at their wedding, no kisses for the small group assembled to watch them, only the interlocking of hands and fingers. 

The kisses had come later, when they were alone.

The lights from the small brick entrance station shone brightly through the trees. They stopped and took off their backpacks before stashing them at the base of the tree they were standing by. Ross could feel his heart rate evening out, a strong steady beat as he felt the calm finally start to steal over him. Next to him, Jim was frozen in place as they watched. 

It had begun.

*********

Ricky Johansson sighed and swivelled his chair so he could look at the clock on the wall behind him. He was about bored stiff. This time of year was slow as fuck. They hadn’t had a single visitor through all day.

‘Time to close up shop.’ Ben said as he came in from outside. He had been manning the Public Safety Office a few yards down the road. Ricky noted he already had his hat and coat on. ‘It’s going to be a chilly one tonight.’

‘Ain’t that the damn truth.’ Ricky said. ‘You call in yet?’ Ben nodded. 

‘All done. Time to get on home and crack open a cold one.’ He gave Ricky a look. ‘You seeing Diane tonight?’

‘Nope.’ Ricky replied. ‘Stupid bitch wants to take a ‘time out’. Reckons we’re not doing so well.’

‘Jesus Christ on a crutch.’ Ben said. ‘She needs a firm hand that one. Take her down a notch or two. I don’t know how you put up with it.’

‘She shuts up real nice with my dick in her mouth.’ Ricky said with a grin. Ben barked a laugh.

‘You just got to make sure she won’t bite it off.’ he said. 

‘She won’t if she doesn’t want to sporting a black eye the next fucking day.’ Ricky said. He got up, taking down his own coat and hat from the pegs on the wall and together they stepped outside. It was dark now and the wind had picked up. Ricky pulled the kiosk door closed behind him and locked it with the keys from his pocket. The parks vehicle was parked down by the Safety building, the distinctive white and blue livery making it visible even in the dim light. They got to it and got in, Ricky in the driver’s seat. He switched on the engine and pulled the car onto the road, ready to head down towards the Big Oak turn-off that would take them home. 

He drove, the headlights powerful beams of light illuminating the road ahead until they got to the more open stretch. And as he came around the corner, something caught Ricky’s attention and he slammed on brakes, his instincts kicking in. It paid to be wary when you worked in a park where large mammals liked to wander on the roads. 

It wasn’t a large mammal standing in the road however. It was a man.

‘What the fuck?’ Ben said. ‘What’s this fucker doing out here at night? And why the fuck is he standing in the road.’ They looked at the man standing in the road, completely calm by all appearances. Then Ben frowned.

‘Hang on.’ He said. ‘That’s one of the fags from the other night.’

‘Yeah?’ Ricky peered through the windscreen to where the man was still standing, hands in his pockets and watching them. 

‘Yeah. The blond one with the big fucking mouth.’ Ben said. He snorted. ‘Bet he doesn’t shut up even with a dick in it.’ Ricky laughed. 

‘You think he’s lost?’ he asked. ‘You think he needs us to show him the way back to civilisation?’ There was subtle hint in the words and Ben nodded eagerly. 

‘I’ll bet he does.’ he said. They looked at each other and grinned. Fucking with the visitors was one of their favourite pastimes. ‘How about I go see what he wants.’ Ricky sat back.

‘Be my guest.’ he said. Ben got out the car and pulled himself up straight. At six foot, he was an imposing sight and the man in front of him was tiny by comparison, barely topping five eight if he was any judge. He strode forward to within a foot of the man. ‘Evening.’ he said. ‘Any particular reason you’re standing in the middle of the road obstructing our way?’ Up close he could see he had been correct. It was the little blond queer from White Wolf. ‘Or are you so lost that you have to stand here like a moron and flag down the first car that comes by.’ He looked back at Ricky in the car and got a cocky grin of encouragement. When he looked back though, he noticed that the queer was smiling, deep dimples in his cheeks and a blinding flash of teeth. 

‘No.’ he replied, and his foreign accent grated on Ben’s nerves like sandpaper. ‘I thought I’d stand here and see if the wind would blow any imbecilic wankers my way.’ His smile got even wider. ‘Looks like I hit the jackpot.’ 

It took a second or two for the fact that he’d just been insulted to filter through Ben’s brain, but once it did he was suddenly infuriated. The little prick was still grinning at him, his light eyes almost sparkling like he was having the best joke at Ben’s expense. 

‘Now hang on a minute…’ he started but then the smile on the man’s face disappeared as quickly as it had come and was replaced by a look that was so perfectly cold and calculating that Ben wished for a second that the smile would come back.

‘I didn’t get a chance to say this the other night, but your behaviour was appalling.’ the man said, and his voice was icy. ‘Ignorance really is no excuse for rudeness.’ He took a step forward and Ben felt the craziest instinct to turn tail. There was something in those eyes that freaked him the fuck out. ‘Neither is stupidity. Pity you have both in abundance.’ Ben was taken aback. He wasn’t used to the blatant disrespect he heard in the man’s voice. His reponse was instinctive.

‘Fuck you, queer. Who the fuck do you think you are coming into my park and throwing attitude around.’ He moved his hand to his hip instinctively, hovering over the state issue .38 he had holstered there. 

It turned out to be the wrong move.

Ben had barely finished the move when the man surged forward with blinding speed, so quick he took Ben completely by surprise. There was a flash of white hot pain in his throat and Ben reached for his neck, choking hard and trying to draw breath. The next blow was to his right knee, knocking it out from under him and he buckled forward. One arm wrapped itself around his throat, slowly choking the air out of him, the other on the top of his head holding him position. It was impossible his brain screamed at him. There was no way this could be happening to him. Ben struggled but the strength in the arms holding him was frightening, far greater than he would have ever believed. His vision started to swim as he fought for breath, his every instinct screaming at him to breathe, until finally he gave in and everything faded to black.

********

Ricky watched in complete and utter amazement as the little guy moved as fast as a rattler, catching Ben completely off guard. He couldn't see what he’d done to Ben, but he was now holding his throat and starting to double over like he couldn’t breathe. He was stunned into inactivity and watched in disbelief as the queer’s hands came up and he settled into a position like Rocky had seen in a thousand martial arts movies, then struck out with his right foot, catching Ben squarely on the side of the knee. 

Ben’s knees went out from under him and as he started to fall the queer moved smoothly to stand behind him, his right arm going around Ben’s neck, Ben’s throat in the crook of his elbow, and his left hand at the back of Ben’s head. That got Ricky moving. He scrabbled at the car door, almost falling out in his rush to get to Ben. But even as his feet hit the ground, there was someone at his back and press of cold steel against his own throat.

‘Now now.’ a voice said. ‘Best not to get involved.’ Ricky felt a hand at his hip, then the clip of his holster was undone and his .38 was lifted as neatly as you please from the holster. ‘Hands behind your head and turn around, very slowly. I would hate to shoot you here. It would be messy and very impractical, but rest assured if you try anything they’ll be wiping your fucking brains off the road.’ Ricky reluctantly did as ordered, raising his hands and placing them behind his head. He turned around and saw the other queer, the taller dark haired one standing with his own pistol levelled at his face. Any thoughts about trying his luck quickly disappeared when he saw the perfect stance the man had, the weapon held perfectly still and level. The focus on the man’s face was terrifying. 

‘Ross.’ The blond man was coming towards them and Ricky saw with horror that Ben’s body was lying prone over one shoulder, the man carrying him like he weighed nothing. ‘Stop playing cat and mouse and sort him out. We have shit to do.’ 

‘Right.’ the man called Ross said and as Ricky switched his focus back to him it was just in time to see the pistol descend before pain exploded in the side of his head and he went down like a ton of bricks. 

***********

The next time Ben woke up it was with a thumping headache. The car was moving but he was in the back seat, which made no sense to him. His throat hurt like he’d been chain smoking for a week and he tried to lift a hand to his neck, but then realised that he couldn’t move his hands. He tested and found they were bound behind his back. He blinked and focused, then realised that Ricky was next to him. He was slumped against the window, and Ben saw with no small amount of shock that there was a streak of black liquid trailing down the side of his face from under his hairline. Like Ben, he was bound.

Ben drew a shuddering breath as the gravity of his situation started to sink in. He twisted so he could feel at his hip, but his pistol was gone. 

‘Hey, look who’s awake.’ a voice said and Ben looked up to see a dark haired man looking at him from the passenger seat. He gave Ben a friendly looking grin and a wave, completely at odds with the situation they all found themselves in. Ben frowned, noting the man wore black latex gloves, and then it all fell into place. ‘We thought you were going to sleep all the way there.’

‘You’re the ones from the Lodge.’ he managed to croak out and the grin blazed into a full blown smile.

‘Yeah, we are.’ he said. ‘The ones you called queer, if I’m remembering correctly.’ He looked at the man who was driving. ‘Isn’t that right?’

‘Among other things.’ his companion said. ‘Not a very nice thing to call people.’

‘Not at all.’ The dark haired man replied. He gave Ben a stern look. ‘You were also very rude to that family. That’s actually why you’re here. If you had just insulted us then we would probably have let it slide.’

‘They had kids for fuck’s sake. Would you have called them that if their girls were with them?’ the driver asked. ‘Actually you’re probably so common you would have.’

‘You’re being classist again.’ the dark man said and his companion snorted.

‘Fuck that. My dad was a fucking fisherman and I know how to fucking treat people. Class has nothing to do with it. It’s common decency.’ he said, the irritation clear in his voice. 

‘True.’ the dark man said then turned back to Ben. ‘You really should be nicer to people. You never know who’re you’re insulting.’

‘Not that you’re going to be insulting anyone in the near future.’ The driver said, and there was smug note in his voice. Ben felt his blood run cold at those words. 

‘Where are you taking us?’ he asked and the dark haired man smiled again.

‘You’ll see.’ he said cryptically. 

***********

They drove for an hour until the shimmer of water came into view. There were no clouds and the moonlight was bright enough to see by. As they got within reach of the dam, Jim switched the lights off and slowed down completely. Like Ross he too was wearing the thick black latex gloves they carried as standard.

They got to the visitor parking and Jim drove the ranger’s car along past the dam and round the stretch of Evergreen Road that turned off abruptly to reverse back on itself and which lead to the concrete dock where the small boats were moored. He drove right down to the pontoons and stopped. They were far away enough from the damn worker’s houses along the other stretch of Evergreen Road for any noise to not reach them. 

He turned in his seat and looked at the two men in the back of the car. The one called Ricky was still out. The one called Ben was sitting very still, his eyes wide and his breathing coming shallow and fast. Jim leaned forward and saw the man flinch visibly. 

‘We’re here.’ He said and Ross leaned in between the seats next to him. ‘Time for the fun to start.’ Ross looked at him and nodded, then turned and got out his side of the car, switching off the interior light when he opened the door. Jim kept his eyes fixed on Ben. The man’s fear was almost tangible. He was sweating profusely, and it stank. Jim gave him a half smile. The back of the car opened and he heard Ross digging around in his pack, before resting the boot closed.

Jim got out his side of the car. Ben watched every move he made. Jim went to the back door and opened it, wrinkling his nose in the face of the man’s goaty smell. 

‘So here’s the thing.’ he said conversationally. ‘We’re going to take a little ride. But to make sure you’re not going to do something like try and kick up a fuss, I am going to give you something. I know you’ll be tempted to yell but I am warning you that if you do, there very first thing I will do after I have shut you up will be to cut your tongue out.’ He grasped Ben under the chin and turned his face so Ben had to look at him. ‘I am not joking about this. This is not an idle threat. I will do it.’ He gave the man a little shake for emphasis. ‘Do you understand me?’ Jim waited and eventually got a quick nod. ‘Excellent.’ He looked up at Ross who was now standing next to him with the first aid kit and a roll of duct tape. Jim took the kit from him and extracted the brown bottle marked as lavender oil. Ross moved so he was standing next to Ben.

Jim cracked the lid of the bottle. Ben’s eyes fixed on it and he started to shake. Quickly, before he could resist, Ross grabbed Ben’s hair, getting is head back and holding his mouth open so Jim could hold the bottle up over it. He counted the drops out slowly, ten in total, and then Ross closed the man’s mouth and held his jaw shut so eventually he swallowed convulsively before let him go. Ben coughed hard and spat a few times but Jim simply closed the bottle and dropped it back in his pocket while Ross got a good grip on the man’s hair again and sealed his mouth with the tape. Jim checked his watch.

‘Give it ten minutes to kick in.’ he said to Ross. Ross nodded and took the first aid kit back exchanging it for the tape.

‘I’ll pack the boat.’ he said and went back to the boot of the car. Jim watched him replace the kit and then heft both packs, one on each shoulder. He reached for Ben’s neck and the man actually shivered under his touch. Jim felt for the carotid pulse, and felt it flutter rapidly under his fingers. 

‘That’ll slow down soon.’ he said. ‘I’ve given you a tincture of valerian and wormwood and I think you’re going to find it very interesting. It also works pretty quickly, so in a few minutes we can get out of here. Don’t want anyone catching us, do we?’ He gave Ben a smile and left him, closing the door and going to the other side where he gagged the unconscious ranger. Then it was a quick few steps to where Ross was loading the packs into the boat. ‘Are there oars.’

‘Yeah.’ Ross replied. ‘We can paddle the first bit of the way and then kick in with the motor.’

‘Good.’ Jim said, watching him with a critical eye. He was very impressed with the way Ross now handled a boat. ‘Come help me get them in the boat and then we can get the fuck out of here.’

By the time they managed to manhandle the still unconscious Ricky into the boat, Ben was starting to slump. Jim took out his torch and checked his pupils, noting the way they dilated a lot slower than was normal. His breathing was also slower and his pulse was sluggish.

‘Looks like he’s in.’ he said and he and Ross wrestled Ben out the back seat and then walked him over to the boat, rather unceremoniously shoving him in next to his companion. Jim went back and locked up the car, walking back over to the boat. It was a bit of a tight fit with all four of them, but Jim was an experienced sailor and kayaker and shifted things around a bit until they were balanced. He moved to the side and Ross handed one oar across to him, then cast off the line and used his oar to push them away from the side. They paddled out and along the shore line until they were well past the Visitors Centre and getting close to the curve where the sides of the reservoir started to climb, becoming sheer rock walls. Only then did Jim move to the back and start up the outboard, guiding them in a straight course across the reservoir. Ross settled into the bow, keeping an eye on the two rangers slumped in the bottom of the boat. He looked at his watch, the luminous hands telling him it was a little after seven. The night above them was clear and bright, the starlight and the moonlight from the waxing gibbous above them enough to make it fairly easy to navigate across. Not that Jim would have struggled. His smuggling experiences had frequently required him to run boats in the dark and that had been in the Caribbean. Out here on the reservoir, with only the lightest chop, he was completely at ease. Ross looked back at him, a perfectly still silhouette guiding the boat to where they wanted to be. 

It took a long time, maybe thirty minutes at least to get to the opposite shore. The water level was shallower and Jim guided the boat in towards a flat area of rock. There was spoil and boulders at the edge which would provide a place for them to moor the boat and climb out. Ross got up, balancing in the bow and then made a graceful jump from the boat to the rocks, landing solidly with the mooring line in hand. He threw his weight into it, hauling the boat close to shore until he could get a good grip on the line and hold it still enough for him to anchor it around one of the large masses of spoil, the rough surface of the rock giving good traction. Jim was on his feet now and he picked up first one pack and then the other, chucking to Ross who caught them and stowed them safely out of reach on the rock. There was a muffled protest as Ben came next, manhandled to his feet by Jim and shoved rather unceremoniously to the edge of the boat. He was unsteady enough to be pliable so when Ross caught hold of him, Ben went without a struggle. 

‘What about the other one?’ he asked and Jim gave Ricky a none to gentle shove with his foot. 

‘Still out.’ he said. ‘You hit him pretty hard.’

‘He was a dick.’ Ross replied. ‘If anything I hit him too gently.’

‘He can stay here for now.’ Jim said. ‘Let’s get this one up into the trees, find a place to set up.’ He picked up both packs and Ross took Ben, guiding him in front of him. Ben moved slowly, putting one foot in front of the other like a small child unsure of their footing. The drugs he’d been given affected his nervous system, being both sedative and hallucinogen. It would make hunting him a very enjoyable experience once the valerian started to wear off but the effects of the wormwood remained for a little longer. Ross often wondered what they saw when he chased them through the dark but Jim had said that each person’s experience would be very different. 

They got into the trees, moving up until the land levelled out a little. The trees here were pines, scrubby and dense. Jim stopped on a flat space and looked around. Only the slightest glimmer signalled the water below them.

‘Here.’ he said and dropped the packs next to one of the trees. Ross dragged Ben over to another, kicking his feet out from under him and letting him fall next to it. The ranger was face down in the dirt and Ross left him there, unconcerned about his comfort. A face ful of dirt would be the least of the man’s worries soon enough. 

They went back down to the boat and together they half shoved and half carried the other ranger out and onto shore. He was a dead weight, but both of them were more than used to handling bodies and they hefted him up off the ground over Ross’ shoulder (the ranger had long legs) and Jim walked behind him as Ross carried him up the slope and into the trees. When they got to where they had set down their stuff, Ben was on his knees trying to crawl away from them and moaning. Ross dumped Ricky on the ground and looked at Jim who laughed softly.

‘He’s very keen.’ he said. ‘I’d give him an hour or so for the vervain to wear off, though. He’d be no fun like this.’ Ross sighed and walked over to the ranger, rolling him over onto his back. The ranger made a strangled noise as he tried to focus on Ross, and struggled weakly. Jim came over as well, crouching down and shining the light of his torch into Ben’s eyes. 

‘Looks like it’s kicked in.’ he said to Ross. ‘Christ only knows what he thinks you are right now.’ He reached out and ran the tip of his forefinger down Ross’ nose, tapping the end gently. ‘In an hour you’ll be able to play all you want.’ Ross waited until the finger drifted within reach and caught it between his teeth. Jim chuckled and let him take it, breathing in deeply as Ross sucked on it. Their eyes locked and even in the dark Ross could feel the weight of Jim’s stare on him. He let Jim’s finger go and moved across the space between them and felt Jim’s mouth, warm and soft under his. It wasn’t until another strangled noise escaped the body currently lying prone between them that they parted and looked down simultaneously. Jim shone the torch down into Ben’s face and huffed.

‘This wanker is off his tits.’ he said disparagingly. Ross laughed and waited for Jim to stand and then pull him to his feet, if only because it meant he got to hold his hand for a fleeting moment. ‘Come on, let’s get the other one sorted.’ They left Ben to wriggle slowly on the ground like a dying fish on a river bank.

They went over to Ricky and hauled him up against the tree closest. He was still out, his head lolling as they got his back flush against the trunk.

‘This one is not going to wake up any time soon.’ Ross said frowning. He pushed back the thick hair from the back of Ricky’s head and inspected the sticky gash by the light of Jim’s torch.

‘Oh, he will.’ Jim said. ‘I have something special planned for him. Make him sorry for insulting my husband.’ He gave Ross an affectionate chuck on the chin. Ross gave him a brilliant smile. They got up and Jim went over to his pack. The light bobbed along the ground and then drew down to a small spot as Jim stuck it between his teeth. He undid the straps and took out the first aid kit which was still on top and then dug around in it for his knife roll, setting it down and then opening up Ross’ pack and getting out the hammer and the pack of nine inch nails. He put the torch on the ground, standing up so the light was cast in a pale pool and lit up the trees overhead.

Ross moved to Jim’s side and stripped off his coat and folded it up, placing it on top of his pack. Jim did the same, folding his far more neatly than Ross had done. Another dig brought out the roll of heavy duty garbage bags and the coats went inside, along with their hoodies and flannel shirts so they were now both in just t-shirts. The clothes were folded up and stuck in the bag along with the coats and then the bag was knotted off. Ross picked up the hammer and nails, sticking the bag in his back pocket. He was about to walk over to Ricky when Jim whistled to get his attention and then chucked something at him, his low laugh filling the clearing.

It was the lube. 

‘Funny.’ Ross said, sticking it in the other back pocket. He walked over to Ricky and stood over him. Behind him, Jim took out another of the brown bottles from the first aid kit, zipped it up and put it back in his pack. He closed that up and then it was another two garbage bags, each pack going into one to be tied off and moved to behind the tree along with their clothes. 

That left only the knives and the brown bottle. Jim pocketed the bottle and then carefully unrolled the black canvas and took out the Delica and the Dragonfly, sticking them in his front pocket. The bottle went into the other one and the Rescue went into the back one, the clip holding it in place. The knife roll was tucked inside one more bag, folded over and left in wait. He picked up the torch and walked to Ross, stopping to give Ricky a careful once over. 

‘We need more light.’ he said then looked around, the torch making an arc as he scanned the area. ‘I think we’re far enough away to risk a fire.’ 

Ross took the instruction, and went about gathering up enough dried boughs while Jim went down to the water and came back with enough rocks to make a small camp fire. They built the fire quickly and efficiently, the rocks containing the small flames which consumed the dry kindling quickly. They added to it, building it higher and higher until it was a decent size, the flickering light enough to clearly illuminate the clearing. That was when a groan from the figure slumped against the tree got their attention. Jim smiled and the firelight made him look feral.

‘He’s awake.’ he said and Ross felt a surge of heat go through him at the sudden eagerness in Jim’s voice. It too three strides to get to the ranger, Ross a step behind him. 

‘Cut him loose and then hold him.’ Jim said, handing him the Delica and Ross complied, moving past him and going to the tree. He sat down, straddling the ranger’s legs and holding them down. It was a moment’s work to pull the man forward and flick open the Delica. Ross used the wickedly sharp knife to slice through the cable tie. He closed the knife, handing it back over his shoulder to Jim, and then took one of the ranger’s hands in his and held it firmly against the trunk. He took hold of the ranger’s other wrist in his free hand, knowing what was coming. Jim came up behind him and reached down, his hand dragging over Ross’ back in a caress before taking the bag of nails out of his pocket. He opened it and took out two, sticking the one in his pocket alongside the knives and placing the other one carefully over the ranger’s palm, angling it so it would separate the first and second metacarpals. He picked up the hammer and lined it up. 

‘You ready, baby?’ he asked and Ross nodded.

‘Hit me.’ he said and there was a sudden bellow behind them. They looked over their shoulders to see that Ben was now trying to work his way away from the fire, screaming out as best he could from behind the duct tape. His boots scrabbled in the dirt, but the combination of having his hands still tied and the drugs meant that he could not get up. Jim and Ross looked at each other for a minute, sharing a smile. 

Then Jim turned back and struck a single clean blow with the hammer. 

The ranger burst into life beneath Ross as the nail drove right through his hand. His muffled scream of pain was loud enough to set off the man behind them again and soon the matching noises broke the silence, compounded by the blows from the hammer as Jim nailed the ranger’s hand flush to the tree. 

Ross held on grimly. The ranger was strong, but he was groggy from the blow and Ross had him pinned down. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to pin down a man and he absorbed the abortive thrashing of the ranger and kept him still. Jim finished the first hand and got up, his fingers trailing along Ross’ shoulders, each light stroke sending shock waves through him. he got to the other side and Ross forced the man’s hand up to the same height. The ranger was trying to keep his hand clenched closed, preventing Jim from repeating his earlier action. Ross dug his fingers into Ricky’s skin and the pain made Ricky pen his hand automatically. That was all it took for Jim to place the nail and hit home. 

When he was done, Ricky was sobbing in agony, his cries high pitched and almost squealing. Ross’ nostrils flared as he scented blood, felt it running over his hands as it welled and flowed down the ranger’s wrists and forearms, dripping from his elbows. He dearly wanted to dip his head, lap it up and get it all over his face but this was Jim’s kill and he was not allowed to touch Jim’s kills without being invited. 

He got up, watching the blood pooling at either side of Ricky, soaking into the dirt. It was mesmerising, drawing his gaze. 

‘Ross.’ Jim’s voice was low. ‘It’s time.’ 

Ross turned and saw Jim holding out the Delica, the same knife that Ross had used to bring him to orgasm not two days before. That sent a shiver through him. Jim almost never let him use it. He reached out and took it from him. The electricity crackled between them as their fingertips brushed. Jim watched him intently, smiling as Ross went over to Ben, who went still as Ross approached. He was whimpering in fear, and Ross noticed a dark patch spreading between the ranger’s legs as his bladder let go. 

He grabbed hold of the man, turning him roughly and cut through the cable ties in one practised movement. Then he stepped back and watched as the ranger realised he was free to move. He managed to get himself onto his hands and knees and looked up. He still hadn’t even registered the duct tape on his face. Ross gave him a smile, feeling the adrenaline start to pump through him, preparing him for what was coming. 

‘Run.’ he said to Ben and the ranger staggered to his feet and took off as fast as he was able to into the shadows beyond the trees. Ross shoved the Delica into his pocket, making sure it was secure. Then he took the lube from his back pocket and chucked it to Jim. Jim caught it neatly and smiled, his dimples shaodws in the firelight.

'Hold onto that for me.' Ross said. 'You'll need it later.' He turned back to look in the direction Ben had run and closed his eyes counted to twenty in his head, his sense flaring to life. Then he opened his eyes and moved towards the darkness.

‘Here I come, ready or not.’ he murmured.


	10. Pretences of Normality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim follows Ross and makes a discovery.

_Before_

The next week flew by. Opening night brought a very respectable audience, positive reviews and a welcome distraction from what troubled Ross. The cast buzzed about like a pack of excitable puppies, most them hopefuls like him who were yet to make any sort of name for themselves. Backstage had an almost carnival atmosphere.

It was all driving Ross crazy.

He had had a long talk with Mathilde the night of the discovery. The knowledge that someone had been in his apartment, in his room, was so violently upsetting that it had triggered the worst fit of insomnia he’d had since he was at school. Even when he did drop off, Ross found himself dreaming of faceless figures stalking him through the dark. And with his bad dreams had come the need. It curled and writhed in his head and stomach, clawed at the edges of his mind.

It was Saturday now and he was on edge, even the slightest thing setting a flood of rage that made his teeth ache. He had been snappish and unsettled all day, biting his tongue on multiple occasions. Now he was at the bar down the road from the theatre, trying to look like he was having a good time. It was packed, even at three in the morning. They were all more or less crammed into the back booths, drinks passing back and forth and the volume way louder than Ross wanted at that point. Every loud shriek grated on his nerves. He really hadn’t wanted to come out, but they had practically dragged him along. In truth all Ross wanted to do was go home and go to bed to ponder his current miserable state of being and just what the fuck was happening to him.

Ross had never been very good at handling stress. That first adolescent kill all those years ago and the subsequent gnawing fear of being caught had made him paranoid, manifesting itself in exactly the same way it was doing now. The insomnia was only part of it. The other was the insatiable need to go out and run someone down, catch them and kill them and rip them to pieces until he could sleep again. But that thought set off the fear once more and so the vicious cycle continued.

‘Ross.’ A bright voice broke into his thoughts. ‘Why are you looking so grumpy tonight.’ He looked up into a pair of bright blue eyes and a halo of thick copper red curls. It was Demelza. She played one of the background ensemble and had taken a most unfortunate liking to him. It bothered Ross enormously. She was always in his space, flirting and smiling and making very obvious overtures towards him. Ross sighed internally but then made the effort and smiled at her in what he hoped was a friendly but distanced way.

‘Hey.’ he replied and she grinned and plonked another pint down in front of him. The sight of it made Ross want to scream in frustration. He had been an inch away from finishing his and then making a dash for it. Now he was stuck.

‘You looked thirsty.’ Demelza said, looking around for a space she could cram herself into. There was none so instead she promptly sat herself in Ross lap, one arm looping around his neck. Her cloyingly sweet perfume filled his nose and Ross had to resist the urge to tip her over onto the floor. Like him, Demelza was British and she seemed to take their shared nationality as a sign that they were meant to hook up. Ross had found that politely declining her blatant offers was like pissing into the wind because she just seemed to get more determined. Short of revealing himself to be gay, Ross wasn’t sure what else he could do to discourage her. But that would be severely counterproductive to his fledgling career. Even in New York it would be hard for him to get romantic leads if he came out as openly homosexual, even if he regularly sucked casting agents’ cocks to get parts. Being bisexual was one thing, being gay would put him in an entirely different category.

So in the face of such fervour, Ross gritted his teeth and played along.

‘It’s been a very long week.’ he said. ‘And I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep.’ Demelza gave him a flirtacious smile.

‘Who’s the lucky girl?’ she asked. Ross smiled back as brightly as he could.

‘Her name’s Insomnia.’ He replied and Demelza pouted at him. It was a struggle to keep the disinterested flatness out of his voice. Thankfully she was too dim to pick it up.

‘Poor you.’ She cooed at him, flicking her curls out of her face and leaning in to murmur into his ear. ‘I could help you with that. I could make you feel so good that you’d go right off to sleep like a baby.’ Ross tried to quell the wave of nausea her smell brought on.

‘Thanks, but I’m good. Really.’ he said. ‘I don’t like to get distracted when I’m on the job. So to speak.’ That got a giggle and another hair flick.

‘You sure?’ she said. ‘I could really blow your mind. Among other things.’ Ross stiffened, trying to shrink away from her as much as possible.

That was when someone brushed past his elbow and Ross looked up past her to catch a glimpse of a fine profile and a flash of blonde hair. The sudden familiarity of the man caught him like a punch in the gut and Ross actually did stand up in an attempt to see get a better look at him. Demelza squawked in indignation, grabbing onto him tightly and getting in his way. Ross managed to extricate himself from her but by the time he was able to walk through the crowd to the front of the bar, the man was long gone.

********

Jim watched Ross from across the bar, seated in the corner furthest from the back and directly opposite to where the cast of Ross’ play was crowded into the booths at the back. It was their usual spot and Jim could see them clearly from his perch on his bar stool. He knew that Ross would end up here, had seen it happen the entire week. And tonight he had not been kept waiting long before that distinctive figure had come past him, striding on long legs with his dark curls in his face. Jim knew now that he did that to hide a lightly coloured scar that ran down the left side of his face from eyebrow to just in line with the corner of his mouth. Jim had been very surprised to see it when he’d walked past Ross the first night he’d come to this bar. Ross had been wrapped up in conversation, not even noticing him walk past, but Jim had noticed him. The scar caught his attention and he’d been so taken with it that he had been hard pressed not to stare.

Jim wondered how he had come by it. Ross was now directly in his eye-line and he could admire him without drawing attention to himself. He’d been there every night that week.

‘He’s quite something isn’t he?’ a voice said and Jim turned to see the barmaid giving him a knowing smile. Jim sipped his beer and smiled back.

‘Yes, he certainly is.’ he said.

He had found himself outside the theatre the previous Monday night. Jim wasn’t sure that he even knew what had brought him to that spot, especially considering it was during the week. His normal night-time activities usually included a well-cooked meal followed by a long bath and then lying on the sofa to watch one of his extensive collection of films with the lads curled up next to him or on his lap. They were wonderful company, only requiring ear rubs and belly scratches to be happy. They were creatures of simple tastes, much like himself. Well, to a certain extent that was.

And yet there he had been, bang on seven o’clock, standing outside the ticket booth. Jim had been torn between burning curiosity and horror at how deep he was falling. Eventually though, the curiosity won out and he had bought his ticket and gone inside. The house lights had already been down when he made his way to his seat. Jim had sat down and waited.

It had been a revelation.

Jim had sat and watched the play with the scattered handful of people in the audience (it was Monday night after all) and every moment Ross had been on stage had made the flickering feeling inside him flare brightly. He had been mesmerised by him. Ross was perfectly emotive, hypnotising Jim like a mongoose with a cobra with every elegant gesture and facial expression. It had taken his breath away, and Jim had sat in the dark until the lights had come up that first night. Even then he was reluctant to leave, to forget the beauty he’d seen in front of him.

It had pulled him back, night after night. Every night that week in fact. Jim had gone to different agents, buying tickets and always making sure to pay cash.

He had gotten lucky on the first night. As he had been coming out of the theatre, long after the other patrons had already departed, the stage door had opened and a group of people had come out. Jim had stepped back into the shadows of the front of the theatre and then recognised them as members of the ensemble. And then there he was, trailing along at the back, the glow from his cigarette lighting his glorious face, his overly loud laugh catching Jim’s attention.

He had followed at a distance and then spent the rest of the night drinking beer after beer and watching the man he was fast becoming obsessed with. After the second night, Jim had noticed something. It was the same the following night and the night after that.

Ross was never the same person twice.

The differences were subtle, but they were there. A change in inflection or movement bought with it a completely different representation that Jim picked up on immediately. No-one seemed to though, and soon Jim started to think of it as a private performance for him alone. It was fascinating and he found himself looking forward to seeing what each subsequent performance brought with it.

Not only that, but Jim began to see that the performance did not stop once Ross left the theatre. And with what he now knew about Ross, Jim could see so clearly the thing that had attracted him right from the beginning. Ross was a predator, an animal dressed up as a man. At the bar he was effusive and friendly, but Jim could see the brilliant smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He laughed and joked and taught them a couple of French drinking songs (and his flawless accent had surprised Jim and aroused him in equal parts) but all through it, it was just another role he was playing.

It made Jim want to corner him, pull off the mask and see what was really waiting in the shadows behind it.

He had been feeling brave tonight, wondering if he should go over and make himself known. Use some stupid pick up line to break the ice. He wondered of Ross remembered him from the party, whether he would be pleased to see him. It was the perfect ice-breaker.

But then she had come along.

Now he was watching her perched on Ross lap and whispering in his ear and Jim was filled with such jealous rage it caught him completely off guard. It made him feel like a lovesick adolescent and the lack of control it brought should have made Jim get up and walk out the bar, not looking back behind him. Anger meant losing control, and losing control meant getting caught. Silver had taught him that a long time ago, and Jim had always been a quick learner.

The woman on Ross’ lap giggled and Jim suddenly wanted nothing more than to go over and pull her off of him by her admittedly beautiful hair, then grab Ross by the hand and drag him off home with him.

Christ, he was becoming positively prehistoric.

Jim got up off his bar stool, digging his wallet out of his back pocket and chucking enough money on the bar to cover his bill and leave a decent tip. Then he walked around the other side of the bar, tracing a slow circle through the crowds of people. His breathing quickened ever so slightly as he drew closer, and then he walked past Ross and got the full benefit of his gorgeous eyes as Ross looked up into the woman’s face so they were illuminated by the light above.

It felt like Jim had been kicked in the chest.

He faltered and then sped up, pushing his way through, close enough to catch the hint of Ross’ smell before he rushed to the front entrance of the bar, almost falling out of the door in his haste to get away.

It was only when he got home and into the front door, only to be greeted by two questing noses and soft paws on his knees, that Jim fell back heavily against the door and closed his eyes, picturing depths that were deep warm amber with hints of green in their epths, framed with thick black lashes that made the colour pop against the dimness of the bar. Jim was pretty sure he’d never seen such spectacular eyes in his entire life.

He was, in his own humble estimation, so royally fucked.

**********

The next night Jim decided to take drastic action. In order to catch the attention of such a magnificent creature, a grand gesture would be required.

He planned it perfectly, right down to the last detail. And when he was done, he went across town and knocked on a door. When it was opened, Jim looked into a pair of not quite as spectacular green eyes and smiled.

‘Hi Christian.’ he said.


	11. Under The Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rangers meet their ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: This chapter contains very graphic descriptions of murder and violence, as well as sexual activity that takes place afterwards.

Jim watched Ross disappear into the night, feeling the little swell of pride he always did when he turned Ross loose to hunt. He had become so much more than what he had been when Jim had met him. Now he was a beautiful monster, his darkness more alluring to Jim than anything he had ever encountered.

He contemplated following Ross for a bit. He loved to watch him hunt, all sleek lines and focus, and Ross hadn’t been able to let loose for a few months and he was no doubt itching to get rid of all his pent up frustration. It would be quite something to watch but Jim had his own kill to take care of and he was feeling the drive just as badly. Besides, Ross would come back when he was done and that would take care of them both. Instead he sat by the fire, feeding it with wood they had stacked next to it and waited.

After about forty minutes the muffled sobbing had started to quieten as the ranger’s adrenaline kicked in and his body tried to cope with the sudden and unexpected trauma. Jim turned back to look at his captive, and walked over, flipping the lube in his hand before chucking it onto the pile of bags near the tree where it landed the top. He crouched at the man’s side and tilted his head, running critical eyes over him. Then he reached out and ripped the duct tape off the man’s mouth in one quick movement.

‘You son of a bitch!’ the man’s voice was rough but the vitriol and fear in it was unmistakeable. ‘You’re fucking insane, the both of you! There’s no fucking way you’re going to get away with this!’ He had tears running down his face, his eyes red from the obvious physical agony he was in. Jim took a deep breath and reached into his pocket. He held the bottle up and Ricky stared at it, his eyes wide. ‘What the fuck is that?’

‘This is a fluid extract of hemlock.’ Jim said, turning it up and down in one quick movement. ‘It’s a very interesting plant, one I’ve used for a very long time.’ He looked at the ranger. ‘It’s not indigenous to the US. It was brought here in the eighteen hundreds. People liked to grow it as a garden plant. It has spread throughout the Northern United States, carried by wildlife and the wind, and now it’s everywhere.’ His smile grew. ‘Just like us queers. It’s what I am going to use to kill you.’ He half shrugged. ‘Well, at least one of the things.’ Ricky took a shallow breath, visibly slumping at Jim’s words.

‘Is that why you’re doing this?’ he asked. His voice was shaking almost uncontrollably. ‘Because we called you queer?’

‘Oh God, no.’ Jim replied. ‘I’ve been called far worse in my life. But you took a liberty with your privilege. You have no concept of what it’s like to face any discrimination. You’re a white male in America. This place was made for you. And instead of being grateful for that, you turned your bigotry on a perfectly nice family whose only crime was wanting to see some redwoods.’ He gestured at Ricky with the bottle. ‘You are supposed to be a custodian of your great country’s natural heritage. Instead you like making people feel like shit because you’re such a fuck up yourself.’ Ricky’s face was growing more and more afraid as Jim continued to speak.

‘It’s not like that.’ he protested violently. ‘I’m sorry I spoke like that. I won’t do it again.’

‘No.’ Jim said. ‘You won’t.’ His hand shot out, grabbing Ricky’s jaw and twisting it ruthlessly, getting the ranger’s mouth open. He raised the bottle to his mouth with the other, getting the cap between his teeth and twisting it off. It took a moment for the thick syrupy liquid to drip down into the ranger’s mouth. Jim counted out the drops, watching dispassionately until it was enough. He let the ranger go and Ricky started coughing.

‘Motherfucker.’ he wheezed. ‘You’ll get your asses broken in Chino for this. You and your fag boyfriend.’

‘You seem to think that you are in a position to unsettle me.’ Jim said, hands crossed on his knees as he watched the ranger. ‘What you fail to realise is the extent to which your opinion will change the situation you find yourself in currently. Which is to say absolutely fuck all.’ He got up and walked back to the fire. ‘In twenty minutes you’ll start to lose the movement in your feet and legs. That’s what hemlock does. It’s called creeping paralysis.’ He looked back at the ranger. ‘Its main alkaloid is called coniine. It affects the muscular-skeletal system but not the nervous one. In short, you’ll be able to feel everything I do to you, but you will be unable to move. You won’t be able to strike out or pull away and eventually you won’t be able to even make a sound. If I let it continue, you’d asphyxiate when your intercostal muscles stopped working. Of course by then you’ll be very keen to die.’ There was a snick and Ricky felt a wave of terror overtake him that was so powerful it made him physically nauseous. The firelight caught on the blade of the knife in Jim’s hand. He reached out and passed it through the flames a few times. ‘There are so many things we have to do tonight.’

A distant high pitched noise broke the stillness of the night and Jim lifted his head, his sharp ears picking up the sound of a man screaming in the distance.

‘Sounds like the hunt is going well.’ he said and got up. ‘I’m not going to lie. There’s going to be very little left of your friend once Ross is done with him.’ The ranger quailed against the tree, his face crumpling and his sobbing starting up again more desperate and broken than before as Jim came towards him. He knelt next to the ranger and gently traced the blade along the man’s cheekbone, watching how Ricky squeezed his eyes shut and flinched away. ‘Good thing I have more patience.’

*********

A few minutes earlier.

Ben flattened himself against the trunk of the tree he was hiding behind and strained his ears for the sound of the monster behind him. He cringed as he heard its stealthy movements, trying so hard to contain the frantic sobs that overtook him, the pure terror that swept through him as he realised it was only a few feet from him.

He had been running, his feet slipping on loose dirt. He’d even gone head over heels a few times, and scrambled to his feet as he threw himself forward, trying to outrun the thing behind him that was tracking him through the trees. He had caught only a few glimpses of it, a strange creature out of his worst nightmares. It walked like a man on its cloven hind feet, the curled horns it carried on its head lowering as it seemed to scent along the pathway it took. Ben hadn’t been prone to nightmares during his life but this thing was worse than any demon his child’s brain could have come up with.

He waited, trying hard not to give himself away and then he realised that there was no sound. It was like someone had switched off the night. He hesitated, then moved as quietly as he could to peer around the tree. The clearing behind him was empty. There was just enough light that he could see the glimmer of water through the trees to his left that lined the slope down to the reservoir. He could also see that he was far enough away that the fire was no longer visible. That was good. It meant he was also far away from the blond man that had Ricky.

Ben moved into the clearing, stepping slowly and trying to clear his head enough to decide which way to go. If he could get to the water, back to the boat (had they come in a boat?) then he could get back to the other side and find help. Ricky could take care of himself.

Ben stopped, standing perfectly still as he listened for any sound or sign that the monster was still there. There was nothing and he turned around to start heading down. But even as he did so, a pain bloomed in his gut and Ben gasped for air as it felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside out. Instinctively he reached down to his stomach, noticing that when he lifted his hands again they were covered in sticky black fluid. He staggered back and looked into the face of the beast. It was almost as tall as he was, thick dark hair and obsidian horns like a bighorn ram sweeping back from its face. Then it opened its mouth and snarled at him and the fangs it had were like those of a mountain lion. Its eyes were flat black, a monster’s eyes and as it raised its clawed hand to strike at him again, Ben screamed with all the strength he had left and collapsed into the dirt.

**********

Back at the fire, Jim hummed to himself as he cut away the ranger’s shirt. The screams in the distance were getting weaker and weaker, starting to fade away into the night. Jim knew that Ross probably had the man on his back by now, knife cutting away at the delicate skin of his belly to reveal the inner workings that kept him alive.

He moved the knife along the seam of the left sleeve, the blade slicing through the cotton as easily as through air. Ricky was crying again, the tears tracking down his cheeks. Jim was sitting on his legs and he’d tried to kick him off a few times but was now less inclined to struggle as the blade ran perilously close to his skin. Jim cut through the cuff and pulled the remaining material away from the ranger’s body. He ran one hand down the ranger’s right arm. The forearm was crusted with blood, but the wound in his palm had stopped bleeding as profusely as it had. There was strangled noise and Jim gave the ranger an irritated look.

‘Would you shut up?’ he said. ‘I haven’t even fucking started yet.’

‘What are you going to do to me?’ Ricky asked and Jim felt a flicker of satisfaction at the fear in the man’s voice. The next words came out trembling. ‘You’re not going to…’ The disgust in the man’s voice and the way he couldn’t even bring himself to say the words made it clear to Jim where he was headed.

‘No.’ he said flatly. ‘I am not going to fuck you. Neither is Ross. That’s not how we work. We only fuck each other. Although, if you manage to hang on a bit you might just get to watch.’ He gave Ricky a gentle slap on the cheek. ‘Although you might find being fucked in the arse quite illuminating. It would certainly be a lot more pleasant than what I am actually going to do to you.’

‘Oh God.’ Ricky had started to shake and Jim knew he was going into shock, the physical pain and the mental stress getting too much. He’d have to work fast if he wanted to get the maximum enjoyment out if what he did. It wasn’t fun unless they were screaming.

He lifted the knife, held Ricky’s arm still and made the first cut.

**********

Ross walked behind Ben, watching the ranger crawl along the ground on his hands and knees. It thrilled him, watching the desperate terror that consumed the man he was about to kill. He reached for the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head, chucking it on the ground, then took the Delica back out of his pocket where he’d put if after the first attack.

He’d only sliced the man’s belly a little, enough to bleed but not enough to really slow him down. Jim’s concoction kept the man just calm enough to not really panic or thrash around when Ross had cut him. He’d just put his hands to the wounds and stared in disbelief at the blood. The next blow had fallen into the ranger’s shoulder, debilitating him just enough. Then he’d collapsed on the ground, moaning and moving like a drunk man along the dirt. Ross smiled as the feeling took him, the wonderful freedom that came with what he was about to do. The only thing that was better was the knowledge that once he was done, covered in blood and riding the wave of power that would make him hard and wanting, he would go to Jim and offer his body up to him, let Jim take control of him, use him and fuck him and make him come harder than he had with anyone else. Jim who was his sun and stars and moon, his whole universe. Jim who controlled with delicate touches and bruising fingers.

He got to the ranger, moving to stand over him. The man seemed to come to his senses enough to realise Ross was there, and whimpered when Ross reached down and turned him over. Ben’s eyes were wide and frantic, the whites showing up stark in the night light. Ross got to one knee, reaching down and grabbing a handful of hair at the front of Ben’s head and flicked the knife open with his thumb. He held the ranger in a brutal grip and used the blade to delicately nick the buttons from the man’s shirt one by one. When he was done, Ross put the knife between his teeth and pulled the shirt open to expose the broad expanse of the man’s chest, the pale belly furred with dark hair. Ross ran both hands over it, feeling the way muscle was turning slowly to fat. Ben felt so alive under his hands, like Ross could feel the trails of blood surging through his veins, trace the organs that would soon be nothing more than slippery masses for him to play with.

‘Please.’ The ranger croaked out and Ross looked up at him. ‘Please…’

Ross tilted his head, an unconscious imitation of the man who had shaped him and trained him to become the most efficient, purest version of himself it was possible to be. Then he lifted his hand and drove the knife down into Ben’s neck, angling it perfectly so that it would puncture the carotid.

_Always hold the knife facing away from you, baby. That way no-one can turn it around, use it against you…_

He let go of the ranger’s hair, ignoring the shock on the man’s face, and pressed his head to the ground sideways, hand flat on the man’s cheek. Then he leaned in close and pulled the knife out. The pressure from the arterial low sent the blood out with enough force to hit him in the face and Ross luxuriated in the warmth, steam rising from it as it met the cold air.

Ben struggled weakly underneath him, his eyes going glassy as his strength started to wane along with his blood. Ross traced the knife along his chest, feeling the flesh part easily under the keen edge until he got to the ranger’s belly, then cut deeper through the skin and layer of subcutaneous fat into the muscle underneath. The ranger cried out, his voice cracking in pain and fright, and his hands scrabbled weakly at Ross.

Ross laughed as he felt the heat spreading through him, his senses heightening, his blood rushing in his ears as he cut and cut. The blood bubbled up between his fingers as he pressed them to the cuts, dropping the knife to reach into the open wounds, guts slithering out over his hands. It was so hot he could feel it though the gloves and he withdrew one hand to feel around for the knife. Then he brought it down again and again, the blade going into the chest easily.

Ross felt Ben starting to convulse underneath him as he went past the point of no return. The last thing he did was shove the knife in and up, cutting through the diaphragm enough so he could reach into the chest and grasp the heart in one hand, feeling it stutter and grow weak as the man died. This was the moment he coveted above all others, save the single moment he could watch Jim’s eyes fall closed at the moment of climax.

It was quick, a single flash from one moment to the next and then the beating stopped and the ranger grew completely still beneath him. Ross watched the eyes lose their focus and become glassy and fixed.

It was done.

He withdrew his hand and sat back on the man’s body, his chest heaving from exertion and excitement. He was a mess, blood splattered across his face and coating his arms up to the elbow. Ross dragged his hands through the blood on the man’s torso and then ran his hands up over his own skin, across his chest and throat. The blood went on warm and cooled rapidly, making his nipples harden. It smelled rich and metallic and Ross moaned involuntarily at the thought of what it would do to Jim to see him like this.

He got to his feet, moving slowly as the warm glow inside him turned into a raging inferno of need and desire. This was what came next, the deep seated lust. He turned back in the direction of where he’ come from, closing the blade of the Delica, and then started to walk back towards the firelight.

*********

The screams died away and Jim raised his head from his task.

‘Sounds like Ross is having fun.’ he said. There was a weak moan rom the man in front of him, but it was soft and had the quality of a beaten dog. Jim looked back at the arm he’d been working on, the trail of perfectly formed letters incised with exquisite precision. It would be repeated on the other forearm. When he was done, he would neatly sever both the arms and his writing from the body. He had learned after having his work discovered that this was not a safe practice.

Still he loved doing it, turning the person in front of him into his own work of art.

The quotes he had chosen were from Plutarch’s Moralia. He had started at the wrist, the words lining up almost perfectly in a straight line to begin with then following the contours of the muscles to twist and curve beautifully. Jim knew the contours of the human body well, had done ever since he’d laid hands on his first man, a sailor from Colombia, who’d taught him how to fuck in the four glorious months before he turned seventeen. Then had come the other first, the first one to fall still under his hands, to lose the thing that made him a living breathing creature at Jim’s behest. Later still had come the work, the feel of cool stone worked to portray life. The nights he would wander the gallery in the dark, trailing his fingers over some of the greatest works of art ever created.

And then of course had come Ross.

Jim hadn’t even been aware that he was missing something. That there was a gaping hole that needed to be filled. But once he’d found that missing part, Jim was at a loss as to how he’d gone through what had passed as his life up to that point with even a semblance of happiness. Ross’ body was the one he knew most intimately, every line of fine dark hair a roadmap to unimaginable pleasure. He knew the taste of him, the rich earthy smell that lingered on his skin for days.

The sound of his footsteps.

He didn’t look around, but his ears tracked the sound of Ross moving to sit behind and to his left. His audience, his devotee, his disciple.

‘You’re done?’ he asked and heard Ross shift. Jim could smell the blood on him.

‘I’m done.’ he said, and his voice was perfectly modulated, so calm it was almost unsettling. ‘Finish what you’re doing.’

Jim smiled and continued his work, crafting the small letters as precisely as he filled in the lost colours of the art he reconstructed. The hemlock was well embedded, the paralysis now up to Ricky’s mid-section. In another hour or two it would reach his chest and stop the air from getting into his lungs.

Satisfied, he turned his attention to the other arm and continued, a mirror image of the other. He hummed as he worked, another unconscious action. There was a soft huff of laughter from behind him.

‘What?’ Jim asked.

‘You’re humming Stormy Weather.’ Ross said. ‘I think it’s funny that’s all.’

‘Hush.’ Jim replied and went on with what he was doing.

By the time he was finished, Ricky’s head was bowed, his breathing shallow. Jim knew he was almost unconscious, his breathing restricted as the paralysis reached his chest. There was a sound behind him and then a moment later Ross was at his back, his arms around Jim’s neck. He reached up with his free hand, coated in blood to the elbow like he knew Ross’ was, and interlinked their fingers.

‘What do you think?’ he asked and felt Ross smile against the side of his neck.

‘It’s beautiful.’ Ross replied. ‘Like you.’ Jim turned his head and Ross leaned around to kiss him. Jim could taste the blood on his lips and licked at Ross’ mouth. Ross responded, his tongue brushing against Jim’s in the lightest of touches. Then he pulled back and his dark eyes were like the abyss. ‘Finish him.’ he breathed and Jim turned back to the ranger. He grasped the ranger’s hair and drew the blade of the Dragonfly across the man’s throat, slitting it cleanly. The blood dribbled from it instead of spurting, the carotid pulse now too weak to do anything other. Together they watched as Ricky’s eyes went glassy and finally fell closed as the life left him. The slow rise and fall of his chest stopped and did not resume. Ross kissed the side of Jim’s neck.

‘I love you.’ he murmured into Jim’s skin, then dragged his tongue over the pulse in Jim’s neck. ‘Fuck me.’ Jim breathed in deeply, letting his head fall back against Ross’ shoulder for just a moment before straightening up.

‘Get up.’ he said and his voice was harsh as the desire overwhelmed him, the need to dominate, to fuck, to own coming to the forefront of his brain and driving him to get up off the floor. Ross was already on his feet and Jim let himself turn slowly, the anticipation of what he would see making him hard in no time. He wasn’t disappointed.

Ross was shirtless, and the blood looked like deep maroon paint across his skin where it was lit by the light from the now dying fire. His face was splattered with it and his dark hair held an unhealthy shine, the moisture bringing out the curl. His hands and arms were so black with blood that Jim couldn’t tell were the gloves began and it was smeared across his chest and neck. Jim felt an insane urge to lick it off him, but then he recovered himself enough to walk over, pulling his own gloves off with a snap and dropping them in the dirt.

‘Against the tree.’ he ordered and Ross turned around, going to the nearest one and leaning against it with his hands braced above his head, legs spread invitingly. Jim went to the bags, picking up the discarded lube and approached slowly. He was so hard now, it almost hurt to walk. He came up behind Ross, noting how his breathing picked up speed. Jim reached up and let his fingers drift over the tattoo on Ross’ back, now stained with blood where Ross had obviously lain on his kill, marking it. Ross moaned as Jim traced the lines on his back. He leaned forward, tongue flicking out and tasting copper. He shoved the lube in his back pocket and reached around Ross’ body, hands ghosting over the bulge in Ross’ jeans before going to the belt and undoing it. Ross was still, his breathing quickening. Jim worked his jeans and briefs down, the fabric tacky with blood under his fingers. It left dark smears on Ross’ skin and Jim absently dragged his finger over one and licked it off.

Ross shivered under his touch and when Jim moved his hand around Ross’ hip, he found his cock rock hard and leaking. He took hold of it, his thumb running over the slipperiness at the head and Ross started to pant. He moved in closer, thrusting up against Ross’ backside and Ross dropped his head back against Jim’s shoulder, letting himself whine with the need to be touched. Jim moved his hand a little quicker and reached for the lube in his back pocket. He flipped the cap and squeezed it over Ross, watching the shiny trail make its way down. He used a lot and then dropped it at their feet. His fingers followed the trail, the slickness guiding him to where Ross was desperate to feel him. He teased gently, fingers circling as Ross squirmed and whimpered.

‘Please Jim.’ he whispered. ‘Do it.’ Jim nosed at Ross’ shoulder and then bit down on the blood soaked skin as he slid his fingers inside him. Ross cried out at the dual pleasures of the burn of Jim’s teeth heightening every sensation he was feeling, and the deft ministrations to his prostate that had him flying. Jim kept his touch firm and steady, knowing that was how Ross liked it best. The movements of his fingers in and out of Ross, and the way he was stroking his cock meant that it wouldn’t take long before he would be ready for Jim to penetrate him, to take him hard and fast and make him scream with it.

Ross was leaning back heavily against him and Jim could feel how hard his whole body was shaking. Jim held Ross there on that knife’s edge, backing off when Ross got too loud and then driving in again, his fingers hitting just the right spot. It was getting difficult for him to breathe as well, the desire for Ross building to fever pitch as they moved together.

Then Jim felt it, the first tiny tremor inside Ross that signalled the onset of orgasm. He was so sensitive to the reactions of Ross’ body that Jim knew he could not wait. He pulled his fingers out, let go and manhandled Ross around, grabbing a handful of hair and dragging his mouth down to meet him. Ross went willingly, mouth open to meet his tongue and kissed back with a ferocity that symbolised everything that Jim loved about him. It went on for what seemed like forever until Jim felt Ross’ hands on his belt, felt them deftly undo it and then unzip his jeans before sliding down the front, fingertips brushing long the his cock.

‘This.’ Ross breathed into his mouth. ‘I want this inside me.’ Jim pushed away from him and their eyes locked.

‘Take them off.’ Jim demanded and Ross went into a flurry of activity as he raced to pull off the gloves then undo his laces, kick off his boots and socks and then strip off his jeans and briefs so he was standing naked in front of Jim. He grabbed Ross by the upper arms, half shoving and half guiding him to the ground. Ross went easily, bracing himself on his hands and knees so he was facing the dead ranger against the tree. He spread his knees and looked at Jim over his shoulder.

Jim dropped to his knees behind him, pressing in with his thumb, fascinated by the easy way Ross’ body opened up and swallowed him. He worked it in and out for a moment and then shoved his own clothes down around his thighs and lined himself up.

Ross was tight and Jim pressed in just hard enough until he felt Ross’ body relent and then there was the gorgeous slide and impact as they came together. The heat of Ross around him was intoxicating and Jim stroked both hands down Ross’ back then reached up with one hand and grabbed his hair again, yanking Ross’ head back just hard enough to elicit a whine.

‘Who do you belong to?’ he asked and Ross laughed, in spite of being restrained like he was.

‘I’m yours.’ he replied. ‘I belong to you.’ There was a challenge in his voice that made Jim’s nerves spark. ‘You can do what you want to me.’ That was what Jim needed to hear and he let Ross’ hair go and grabbed him by the hips, pulling out and slamming home in a brutal thrust that knocked a desperate cry out of Ross even as it jerked him forward.

Jim waited for him to recover and then did it again and again, settling into a violent rhythm that made them both shout. Ross was loud, not that he was any other way mind, but out here with no-one to hear them his voice was more strident than usual, his wordless cries hitting pitches that he seldom produced when they had neighbours to worry about. It was like fucking a wild animal and Jim rose to the challenge, driving into him with no regard for either of them. His nails dug into Ross skin, leaving small welts, and he watched the undulation of the souls trapped in hell before him as Ross bucked back into every thrust. He dropped to his elbows to give himself more traction and the new angle made him scream as Jim hit him head on.

The heat, the wetness, the smell of blood. It was all too much, to overpowering and Jim felt himself approaching the brink. He fell forward, getting Ross’ skin between his teeth and biting hard as he felt the tremors staring inside him again, only this time far stronger than before. Ross was almost howling and then he arched down, head back and mouth open, as he came and it was all too much to bear and Jim followed, barely able to even breath the force of it was so intense.

This was it for them, this singular moment when they were so in tune with each other that they could hardly define their limits from one to the other. It was the reason for everything, this perverted and glorious bond they shared.

They came down, shaking against each other from the combination of endorphins, adrenaline and cold. Jim let go of Ross, cheek resting briefly against his heaving back, before pulling out of him and then pulling Ross up to lean against him. The light from the fire caught the small puddle of fluid in the sand, and Jim stared at it, the incontrovertible evidence of what he’d just done to Ross. He wrapped both arms around him, holding him tight, and Ross reached back for him with his own hand, leaving bloody tracks on Jim’s skin.

‘I love you.’ Jim said, his voice rough.

‘I love you.’ Ross replied.


	12. Courting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected encounter brings them closer to each other.

Before

It had been surprisingly easy.

Jim unlocked the combination padlock that kept the chain on the yard gate secure, opened it and drove in. The yard itself was in Willet’s Point, a stone’s throw on the other side of Flushing River from the NYPD Academy. That made Jim laugh, the proximity of the police a beautifully ironic touch that appealed to his sense of humour. If only they knew what went on in and below the building at the back of the open space.

It belonged to one of the faceless companies Silver owned, although even the finest forensic accountants would have had a hard time tracing it back to him. He’d pretty much given it to Jim to use for whatever he needed and Jim had taken steps to make sure that nothing alerted his neighbours to what went on there.

He got out the truck, giving his snoozing passenger a quick once over, and then went and locked the gate behind them. It was a quick walk over to the building, another unlocked padlock and then Jim got back in and drove the truck inside.

  
The building itself was empty, simply another automative workshop that looked like it had hit hard times. The windows were boarded up and there was no electricity connected, although the water still worked. Not that Jim used anything up at surface level. He got out to close and lock the door behind him and then crossed the concrete flooring to a heavy metal door set in the far wall. He unlocked this one and pulled it open. It moved heavily on its hinges and Jim left it open while he went back to the car and retrieved Christian from the front seat. He balanced him over his shoulder, taking the man’s weight and holding him in place. The concentrated vervain had done its job and Christian was fast asleep. Even Jim knocking his head against the door frame as he closed the door didn’t wake him.

To be fair, Jim’s only real grudge against him had been that he was dull and nowhere near stimulating enough in bed or out to keep him around. But that had been before _him_. And now Jim saw the man over his shoulder in a different light. Christian had slept with Ross, actually been able to touch and take and do all the things that Jim was starting to dream about and the knowledge that it wasn’t him who had been able to do those things was making him beyond angry. Not only that, but he remembered the way Ross had stared into Christian’s eyes while he was stealing him away. Jim had thought it simply a good pick up trick. Now the action held far greater significance.

And honestly, what better way to show his intentions. If Ross accepted his gift, then Jim could begin to court him in earnest.

He smiled and started humming as he descended the stairs behind the metal door and disappeared into the dark.

**********

Four days later Ross was woken by Cilla pounding on his door. He raised his head and glared at the door as best he could in his groggy state. The knocking kept going and Ross groaned as he stretched and then made a valiant attempt to sit up. He was exhausted, the combination of late performances and lack of sleep catching up with him in the worst possible way. He didn’t even bother to pull on underwear, just stomped to his door. When he opened it, he was greeted by a massive bouquet of red roses, the velvety petals so dark they were almost black.

‘Well, those are nice. What overstuffed shirt sent you those? he asked and Cilla’s head appeared around the side of them, a smile plastered all very her face.

‘They’re not for me, dipshit.’ she replied. ‘They’re for you.’ With that she shoved the flowers into Ross’ arms, leaving him bewildered. He juggled them, managing to get them out of his face.

‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ he asked and she waltzed past him into his room and plonked herself on his bed. She was wearing a floor-length men’s silk dressing gown and after she got comfortable on the bed she also dug out a black box tied with crimson ribbon from the one voluminous pocket.

‘They were just delivered, like a few minutes ago. This came with them. I tried shaking it and it feels like perfume.’ Cilla said and those words hit Ross like slap in the face. His blood ran cold at the implications. He looked at the box in her hands, noting the perfect wrapping, and watched as her fingers toyed absently with the velvet ribbon. Ross could tell she was itching to open it. He placed the flowers on the bed next to her and grabbed the box from her hand.

‘Out.’ he ordered, and she gave him her best sad puppy face.

‘But I want to see.’ she whined, and Ross manhandled her off the bed with one hand and shoved her towards the door. ‘You’ve been hiding a sugar daddy haven’t you? Some rich guy who thinks you suck cock like an angel.’ She grabbed at the doorframe as Ross tried to get her out the door. ‘Come on, show me.’

‘Not a fucking chance.’ Ross said and finally managed to get his door closed, locking it behind her. Only then did he allow himself to fully take in what was in his hand. It was a simple square box, wrapped in black paper. The ribbon was tied in a strange knot that he didn’t recognise. Ross swallowed noisily, his mouth suddenly very dry.

His heart was pounding as he went back to the bed and looked at the bouquet. He counted the roses and found there were twenty-four of them. The bouquet was hand tied, the stems held together with black twine. It was stark and beautiful and the cup-shaped blooms gave off a rich, heady fragrance that made him think of Mathilde’s rose garden at the height of summer. There was no card.

Ross turned his attention back to the box. The weight in his hand was unsettling because he knew what it felt like. He sat down, hands trembling as he pulled on one end of the ribbon. To his surprise the complex knot fell apart easily when he tugged. He placed it to one side and ripped off the paper, then opened the top which was in four sections and folded together like a puzzle box. Inside was a wadded piece of gauzy black silk, holding the object inside still. Ross could see the plain steel lid through the material. He desperately wanted to take it out but he was more terrified of doing that than he’d been of anything in his life.

The lid was cold to the touch and when Ross lifted it out he could see the preparation that had been used was far more sophisticated than his own self-taught techniques. The jar was hermetically sealed, the fluid inside perfectly clear. The orbs that floated inside with their trailing optic nerves were snowy white and pristine, and their beauty quite took his breath away. There was something very familiar about their crystalline green irises.

It took a few moments for the penny to drop.

‘Oh fuck me!’ he blurted, dropping the jar to the bed as if his fingers had been burnt. Now he recognised the eyes. Ross stared at them, horrified and fascinated in equal parts. Then he noticed a slip of paper that had fallen out of the box when he had removed the jar. He bent down and picked it up. The paper was fine, thick and creamy white. It was folded over, and Ross opened it and saw a single line of elegant script written in black ink. He read the words and felt a not unpleasant lurch in his stomach.

_I thought you might like these._

**************

Jim left for work on Friday morning with a distinct spring in his step.

He had never been one for grand love affairs. Silver’s house had been permissive and he’d never once batted an eye when he’d come into Jim’s room and found a man in his bed. And there had been many of them. Jim was well aware of his physical attractiveness and knew how to seduce and had used both these things to claim a great many conquests. But that’s all they were to him. He had even started to suspect that he really wasn’t capable of love, that the broken connection in his head that drove him to do the things that he did meant he would be alone forever.

Now there was something stirring in him that had Jim more excited than any kill he had ever made. And when he’d gotten home from having the flowers and gift delivered, he’d been almost too keyed up to do anything other than sit on the sofa and envisage what Ross’ reaction would have been.

He had practically bounced out of bed that morning, gone to his muay thai class and then showered and dressed for work. Breakfast had been a stop on the way for miso, steamed fish and rice and then onto the green line to head up to 77th Street where he got off and then headed west to the museum. The staff entrance was down the side of the iconic building and Jim opened the door using his security tag and went inside, nodding at Jerry as he passed the security booth with its bank of CCTV screens.

‘Morning.’ he said and Jerry gave him a jaunty salute.

‘Turning cold out there.’ he replied and Jim smiled as he signed the staff log, noting that there were only four other people who had come in before him.

‘It can’t come soon enough.’ he said and Jerry laughed.

‘You’re not going to be saying that when we get snowed in.’ he said and Jim shrugged.

‘I like the snow.’ he replied and Jerry shook his head.

‘You crazy foreigners.’ he said and Jim left him to walk up the single light of stairs that lead him to the staff elevator. From there it was a short ride up to the third floor mezzanine which held the restoration labs and workshops. He went down the corridor that ran along the right of the rooms, which had a bright lookout over Central park behind the building. His pathway took him past the office of the department head and Jim smiled as he noticed that the lights were on. He stopped and stuck his head in the door.

‘You didn’t sign in.’ he said and the occupant of the office snorted derisively.

‘I refuse to have my comings and goings accounted for by that bunch of incompetents in HR.’ she said and hung up her camel cashmere coat before turning and giving him a considering look. ‘You’re in early, James.’

‘So are you, Emma.’ Jim replied and she smiled at him, the lines in her face making her no less spectacular to look at. She reminded him of Katherine Hepburn, and her strong features and thick auburn hair went well with the forties style of dress she affected. Today’s trousers were black crepe, her shirt a perfectly pressed white poplin, and her hair was tied in her customary braid. Emma was an institution. She had been employed by the Museum for an age, her eye for masterpieces propelling her through the ranks from being a restorer to heading the department. There had been a brief power struggle three years previously, two years after Jim had started working for her. Another employee, a man called Gerhard Weiss who had been another of her protégés, had turned on her and tried to oust her from her position. He had almost been successful as well, but then had mysteriously disappeared on his way home from a fund raiser a week before his appointment as their new department head was to be announced.

Jim, of course, knew what had happened to him. Pity the NYPD hadn’t been able to keep up. They might have found Gerhard’s last destination an interesting one.

‘There’s something different about you today.’ Emma’s voice was speculative. ‘Have you met someone?’ Jim gave her the benefit of his dimples.

‘Maybe.’ he replied, then folded his arms and leaned in the doorway. ‘Is it that obvious?’

‘Darling, I have known you for five years and I have actually never ever seen you look this happy.’ Emma said. ‘Who is he?’

‘Would it sound crazy if I said we’ve never actually met?’ Jim said. ‘Well, briefly, but not so that he would remember me.’

‘Now that is a very odd way to begin a courtship.’ Emma said. ‘Especially considering that you simply don’t do relationships.’ She sat back in her chair and crossed one elegant leg over the other.

‘This one is special.’ Jim said.

‘He must be to have turned your head.’ Emma smiled at him. ‘Does this mystery man at least have a name?’

‘Ross Poldark.’ Jim said, and just saying the name out loud gave him the most delicious shivers. Emma chuckled.

‘I have the most godawful meeting lined up this morning but I am free for lunch today.’ she said. ‘You can tell me about him then.’

‘Not a chance. I don't want to jinx anything.’ Jim replied, then straightened up and headed down the corridor to his workshop. He opened the door and turned on the lights. The workshop space was shared with five others, each of them having their own area with a large wooden work table, easel and storage trolley. Jim’s was at the back, right near the window. His worktable was crowded with the chemicals he used and on his easel was a fifteenth century oil by a minor Italian artist from the same school as Bellini. He loved this periodwith its vivid colours and magnificent brushwork. This one portrayed the daughter of a Venetian noble and her creamy complexion was slowly being revealed by his careful and painstaking removal of centuries of grime, grease and other pollutants that masked the true beauty of the painting.

Jim hung up his bag and took off his coat and hung that up as well. His apron was draped over the back of his chair and he put it on, tying it off and giving the painting a once over while he considered his approach that day. Then he dug his Ipod out of his pocket and put his earbuds in. He liked to listen to music while he worked, but his tastes were considered far too uncool for the general consumption of the workshop. He pressed play and Billie Holiday’s voice filled his ears. Then he moved to his work table and got started.

*********

Ross lay on his bed, chest heaving. He was covered in sweat, having just woken from another dream. This one had been different though. The stickiness matted in the hair on his stomach testified to that.

He had known on some level that he was being watched. He had thought it was someone who had meant him harm. Now it was clear that the opposite was in play. Not only had the person been in his room, he had clearly discovered what Ross was hiding behind the heating vent. Either that or he was someone that knew Ross from before, maybe from France. But that didn’t make any sense at all.

No, it was the person that had been stalking him, the one who had somehow gotten into his apartment without leaving a sign of how he’d done it. And Ross hadn’t wanted to alert either Cilla or Andreas to what had happened and so hadn’t suggested that they have the locks changed. If he was being honest, a tiny part of him now wanted the person to come back.

His dreams had been filled with a shadowy figure that walked just out of sight. Ross had followed him through the darkness, catching only glimpses until he found himself in a space with nothing beyond him but emptiness. He had stood and then he had felt the hands on him, sure and strong. They had ran across his shoulders, the touch bringing heat and desire, and then clasped themselves around his throat. It had been enough to make him jolt awake just as he came all over himself.

It had been like that since he’d gotten the flowers and the gift. The flowers were now standing in a plastic beer pitcher on his bedside table taking up most of the space. Ross could reach out as he lay there and rub the soft petals between his fingers and breathe in nothing but the heady fragrance.

He had been thinking about nothing else.

His performance the night before had been distracted and unsettled and he’d not gone to the bar afterwards. Instead he’d walked back to his apartment, which had taken two hours, and every step of the way he had hoped to see or hear footsteps behind him, to catch sight of the person who had made such a bold move. He had even detoured through Central Park, completely heedless of any personal danger he might be putting himself in, almost daring the man in the shadows to come get him. Unfortunately, while he’d been propositioned a couple of times, Ross had not encountered him.

He sighed and reached for his mobile. It was just after two in the afternoon and he needed to get up, get ready and go to the theatre. Ross sat up and rubbed the back of his neck, then swung his legs over the side of his beck. He picked up his discarded t-shirt and wiped himself off then stood up and grabbed his towel from the back of the door and draped it over his shoulder.

He left his room and padded down the passage to the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and went to pee, taking a deep breath as he did so and trying to clear his head. Once he was done, he flushed the toilet and turned on the shower, waiting for the water to get at least bearable then climbed into the tub and stuck his face in the spray, leaning his forehead against the tile.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he had a clue as to what to do. Ross knew that he was impatient, but this was a little unbearable. He wanted to know who his mysterious admirer was, to see his face. And just like that it hit him.  
Blond hair. A perfectly straight nose. A sense of familiarity that Ross couldn’t quite shake.

It was him. The man Ross had glimpsed at the bar after he’d gone there on Saturday night. He knew it as surely as he knew his own name. Ross needed to know just how much the other knew. They had clearly found his trophies, but they had not reported him to the police. Instead they had sent a gift, the likes of which only he would appreciate. Ross felt a little twinge at that thought. He had only started doing that because of his Prince and a small part of him felt guilty at how quickly he was ready to forget that and chase after this new shadow, but then he brushed it aside. He had long ago realised that meeting his Prince Charming would be an almost incalculable mathematical impossibility. But maybe he had met someone just as good.

Now he was in a quandary. Should he continue to wait or should he try and give some sort of sign that he was interested. This was like no pick up he had ever experienced before. He was so confident in his ability to find a bed partner, but this was not like anything that he’d ever been faced with. After all, the killer had targeted the last man he had slept with which meant that he had been trailing Ross for a lot longer than he had originally thought. It might mean that the man following him knew almost all his routines, and that included going to the theatre and being in the play and…

The man knew he was in the play. The man knew his name. The man might have sat and watched him and Ross would have been none the wiser. That was probably how he had found him in the bar. But why hadn’t he approached Ross, spoken to him? Maybe he was waiting for Ross to do something or had something planned for him.

Maybe this guy got off on killing other killers, just like in Dexter. That was enough to bring on a wave of nausea.

Or maybe this guy was into him. Ross wasn’t quite sure which thought made him feel more unsettled.

He had no idea what to do.

**********

Jim packed up his workstation and undid the ties of his apron. It had been a good day. He’d painstakingly cleaned the lower left quadrant of the painting and now was pleasantly fatigued. It was Friday night though so that meant drinks after work at Lafferty’s, the dive bar down on Lexington that had resisted all efforts to gentrify it. It had an impressive stock of single malt whiskies and good draft on tap and his department had made it their unofficial HQ. Unfortunately, Jim was too distracted which meant he would have to beg off again.

Devon, the woman who had the station over from him, came up next to him and gave him a companionable shoulder bump.

‘You coming out tonight, Jim?’ she asked and he smiled.

‘No, I don’t think so.’ he said.

‘That’s too bad.’ she replied. ‘We missed you last week.

‘Yeah, well. I had a thing.’ he replied and she wrinkled her nose at him. Jim found her quite lovely. Her parents were from India and she had the most exquisite black almond shaped eyes and a dark complexion that set them off beautifully. Jim often thought that if he was straight, he would have gladly chased her round their combined work tables.

‘Emma mentioned you’re seeing someone.’ she said and Jim raised an eyebrow at her.

‘Seeing is maybe too strong a word.’ he said. ‘Stalking might be a better description.’ Devon’s eyes widened and then her expression changed and she laughed.

‘You’re too much.’ she said. ‘It’s been three years and I still can’t tell if you’re joking.’

‘Maybe I’m not.’ Jim said, smiling so his dimples came out. ‘Maybe I’m actually a serial killer who’s been terrorising this city for years.’

‘Oh, you.’ Devon snickered and bumped him again.

*********

Ross got to the dressing room and dumped his bag in the locker assigned to him. He was trying very hard not to reveal the fact that he was so hyped up, his hands were shaking. He had stood outside the theatre for twenty minutes, smoking until his pack was empty. The nerves he was feeling had not abated since he’d had his little internal debate with himself earlier.

He had decided that the best way to get his admirer to reveal himself was to reveal himself in turn. How the fuck he was going to do that though was another story. Still he had prepped and was ready.

‘Hey.’ a voice said and Ross turned to see Zach, the actor that played Stanley, standing behind him at his own locker. ‘You okay, Ross?’

‘I’m fine.’ he replied. He didn’t particularly like Zach, thought him too showy and that he overplayed things.

‘Yeah, well. I hope you’re better than you were last night because you were out of it, man.’ Zach said. ‘Just make sure you’re on it tonight. The rest of us would like to maintain at least some semblance of professionalism.’ With that he shut the locker and walked off. Ross glared at his retreating back.

‘Wanker.’ he muttered. It irked him that his poor performance the night before had been noticed. He needed to get it together.

It was, however, a great pity that he actually knew Zach. Killing that smug self-satisfied prick would be a fuckload of fun.

He’d have to make do with whatever presented itself to him instead. Ross hadn’t killed for four months now. He only chose to when the circumstances were such that he could get away with it, and that meant a random pick up that could not be traced back to him. There was a place in Riverside Park he liked to take them, just down behind the iron fence that led off either side of Inspiration Point. If he threw them in the river from there after carrying them across the railway lines, they got carried pretty far upstream. Two of the three he’d killed had surfaced eventually but they had been in the water so long it had been hard to tell what had happened to them other than they had been killed. The third one had been lost to the tides.

He longed to take a ride out there now, lure the man he was with down to the trees and then let loose. Cut and cut until there was little left. Roll in the blood and let its smell fill his nostrils. Ross hadn’t done that since he’d come to New York. It was difficult enough killing in an urban environment, but walking back to his apartment covered in someone’s blood would have definitely been out of the question. So it would be a quick unsatisfying kill, but it would have to do. A few swift blows to the most vulnerable places then a hack job to get the eyes. Not his finest work, Ross would be the first one to admit. But it wasn’t like he had seven hundred acres to run around in like he had in France.

‘Ross!’ It was Harry, one of the assistant directors. Her sweet face was creased in concern. ‘You need to get into make-up. Like now!’

‘Sorry.’ he said, slamming his locker shut and following her out the room.

**********

Jim toyed with the idea of going to watch Ross again. He had managed to restrain himself that entire week. He was still worn out from Christian (killing always took a lot out of him) and he’d also needed some time to contemplate his next move. He glanced at his watch and noticed that it was just past ten. Ross’ play would be finished in half an hour.

It was Friday night and as a single gay man who was still in his twenties, it was almost sacrilegious for him to be sat at home watching a re-run of Futurama. He looked down at the boys, who were currently draped across his lap. They in turn looked up at him, tails flicking intermittently. Jim rubbed both sets of ears and then sighed. He wanted to be out, but not with other people. He wanted to finally be able to sit down opposite Ross, talk to him, maybe buy him a beer and start scratching away at his surface veneer.

‘Jana?’ he called and there was the sound of a door opening a moment later.

‘What?’ she called back. She and Katya had fallen out again and she had shown up after calling and sounding horribly close to tears. If it wasn’t for the fact that Jana actually loved the stupid bitch, Jim would have happily gotten rid of her long ago for making Jana cry. She had never done it in front of him, but he had heard her in the spare room on those nights when she had come to him in retreat. Jim had asked her to move in a couple of times, but she was too proud to leave.

‘Can you watch the boys? I need to go out for a bit.’ Jim waited for a response and heard her shuffling along the corridor that led from her room behind the stairs to the living room. She appeared in the doorway wearing a t-shirt, flannel pyjama pants and the biggest pair of bunny slippers to ever grace human feet. Her pale blond hair was tied in a ponytail.

‘All right.’ she said, coming into the living room. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘Get some air.’ Jim replied. That was a lie. He was going to drive uptown and park outside Ross’ theatre and wait for him.

‘Of course.’ Jana said, her careful neutrality telling Jim that she didn’t believe him in the slightest. She sat down on the opposite end of the sofa and the boys shifted so they could curl around her legs. Jim gave them each a pat.

‘Traitors.’ he chuckled and then headed upstairs.

His room was in darkness and he only switched on the bedside lamp. The walls, a dark blue grey like a stormy sky, and the black bed linen reflected little of the light. Jim went to the bathroom and switched on the light, then discarded his clothes and turned on the shower. He stepped in under the rainfall deluge and washed himself off. Then he dried and went back into the room, catching sight of himself in the massive French gilt mirror he had propped against the wall so it took in the entire bed. A sudden image flashed through his mind of Ross on his hands and knees on the bed in front of him while Jim tangled one hand in that thick dark hair, pulling his head back to they could watch each other.

‘Jesus Christ.’ he muttered to his reflection. ‘Will you fucking get yourself under control?’ His reflection stared back dispassionately and said nothing. Jim gave himself a disgusted look and walked into his closet. Like everything else in his life, it was particularly orderly, with all his clothes neatly folded and hung up according to colour. One of the reasons he paid Jana as much as he did was her ability to organise his clothes. She was as meticulous as he was.

He dressed quickly, briefs, jeans, belt, black t-shirt and black shirt over it. He rolled the sleeves up on his forearms and pulled out the second drawer. When he wasn’t carrying them on him, Jim kept his collection in here. There were twelve in total. He never left the house without at least one knife on him. Usually it was three or four. He stood and pondered before selecting the 3.5 inch Buck Alpha hunting knife, one which was easily concealed on his person but which had a blade that could do some very serious damage. It went in the reinforced interior pocket sewn into the front of his jeans.

It was a quick trip back to the bed with fresh socks in hand. Jim sat down and pulled them on, following with his boots. He tied the laces and knotted them with a double bowline. Finally he reached over to his bedside table, retrieving his watch and phone. The phone went in his pocket and he did up his watch on the way down the stairs. Jana had changed the channel and was now watching Bridget Jones’ Diary.

‘I’ll be back late.’ Jim said as he stood in the doorway and she held up one hand in acknowledgement but otherwise didn’t respond. Jim left her and went to the console table by the front door, picking up his keys and wallet from the wooden bowl. The very last thing was his jacket, shrugged on as he left the apartment.

His truck was parked a few streets down. Jim didn’t drive often but he felt more secure having a car and knowing it gave him freedom to do what he needed to with far less risk of getting caught. He got in, turned the key in the ignition and headed for Fiftieth Street.

*********

Ross came off the stage after their final bow feeling completely vindicated. He had absolutely shone out on the stage, pretty much blowing everyone away with his focus. And all it had taken was the simple notion that the person following him night well be in the audience.

Ross would have been the first person to say he was a show off. Why else go into acting? But this was an entirely new type of performance. This was him trying to draw in the man in the shadows. This was him doing the human equivalent of a mating dance.

Now to see if it had paid off.

He floated around the dressing room, taking off his stage makeup that concealed the scar on his face (a riding accident when he was ten) and getting changed back into his street clothes. The others seemed to have picked up on his feelings and were gabbling away like a flock of mynah birds in a tree. All except Zach, who glowered at him from a corner. Not that Ross really noticed him. he was too excited to see what fruits his labour might have produced.

He finished dressing, accepted a congratulatory tequila shot from one of the ensemble girls and hurried out before Demelza could block his pathway. His thinking was that he would wait outside the theatre. Mystery man obviously knew where it was, had probably followed him to the bar from here.

The autumn air was crisp as he got out the stage door. He took a moment to jog to the newsagent a few shops down and buy another two packs of cigarettes. The he chose a post a few steps from the stage door but on the other side of the way it opened and in the opposite direction of the bar. Ross looked around him. It was busy, after all it was Friday night in theatre town. He peeled the cellophane off his cigarettes, tearing the foil and knocking one out on his hand. He lit it with the cheap plastic lighter he kept in his pocket and took a deep drag, leaning back against the wall.

Now to wait.

***********

Across the street, Jim watched.

Ross was standing in the light from one of the street lamps, the glow from his cigarette occasionally lighting up his face. He looked like something out of a Van Sant film, his hair in his eyes and one foot braced up against the wall behind him. Jim could have happily sat and watched him all night.

A part of him desperately wanted to get out the truck, run across the road heedless of the traffic and pin Ross against the wall, twist his fingers through the dark curls and kiss him. He was so beautiful he made Jim’s cold heart melt.

He was so afraid at that moment he could hardly breathe.

So instead he sat and watched. Ross stood there for an hour, smoking cigarette after cigarette. It was clear he was waiting for someone, getting more and more agitated as the time passed. Jim wondered who it was he was there for, maybe another hook up, possibly something more serious. Perhaps waiting for the man who had sent him the flowers and the token that spoke to the darkest reaches of his soul.

Jim could only hope.

*********

Eventually Ross conceded defeat. His admirer was clearly either not around or playing coy. He crushed his cigarette under the heel of his boot and went to the bar. The rest of the cast was already pissed by the time he got there so Ross threw caution to the wind, downed five tequilas in quick succession and merrily proceeded to get as drunk as possible.

The disappointment he felt was crushing.

He ended up in a toilet cubicle with Zach of all people, on his knees with Ross’ cock in his mouth. It certainly put a new spin on why he was such a cunt all the time but it was also quick and empty and when he was done, Ross left him there without offering to reciprocate and didn’t look back. He grabbed his bag and coat and headed back out into the night, feeling miserable and annoyed and relieved in equal measures that no-one had shown up out of the shadows like some distorted version of Prince Charming to sweep him off his feet.

It had gotten cooler and the alcohol was starting to wear off as Ross began the two hour walk that would get him back to his apartment. He stomped along, earphones on and completely morose at how his evening had gone. He couldn’t believe he’d done something so reckless as allow Zach to blow him in the restroom. Not that Zach would say anything, of that much he was sure. It hadn’t been the best blowjob Ross had ever got either and that just added to his growing frustration.

It was shaping up to be a shitty night by the looks of things.

He’d been walking for an hour when the car pulled up next to him. Ross ignored it at first, increasing his pace. It kept up with him and finally he stopped and looked at it. It was a Lexus, pretty top of the range in his estimation. He looked up and down the street and noticed that there were actually no other people around. The only other car was a black truck that drove right past the Lexus as the driver slowed. There was the smooth electric noise of the window going down and Ross heard a man’s voice.

‘You need a ride, pretty boy?’ The man’s voice was uptown eloquent. Ross heaved a sigh. The last thing he needed was some rich banker type thinking he was a rent boy.

‘No thanks.’ he replied and kept walking not even bothering to look in the car.

‘You sure?’ The man’s voice sounded vaguely amused. ‘My car is very comfortable.’

Ross was just about to reply with a choice epithet when he stopped. He was normally a great believer in fate. Maybe this was the opportunity to show his admirer what he could do being dropped in his lap. He stopped walking and then approached the car and leaned in the open window.

‘What exactly do you want?’ he asked and the interior light went on. The man in the car was good looking, Ross was surprised to see. He had light brown hair that was immaculately styled. He was also wearing a wedding ring. Ross raised an eyebrow and the man grinned sheepishly.

‘How much?’ he asked and Ross resisted the urge to laugh.

‘You couldn’t afford me, mate.’ he said and the man gave him a very attractive smile.

‘I have two hundred bucks on me that says I can.’ he replied, then leaned over and opened the door. Ross gave it no more thought. It really was being made far too easy for him.

He got in the car.

************

Up ahead, Jim had pulled over and shut the truck’s light’s off. He had been following Ross from the theatre, keeping a healthy distance and occasionally pulling over so he wouldn’t spook him. He needn’t have worried. Ross had his earphones on and seemed to be in a world of his own. It worried Jim a little. Even people like them couldn’t be so blasé about personal security in New York that they would walk home at three in the morning. So he kept driving, just far back enough that he could see the tall figure with its distinctive long stride moving ahead of him. But then a car had driven past him and Jim had watched it track Ross for a couple of blocks before pulling in next to him.

Jim wasn’t someone who gave into his animal instincts without a great deal of planning beforehand. But the red swell of anger caught him by surprise. It had not even been a week since Christian and here he was, wanting to rear end the man in the car who Ross was now talking to and then get out, storm over to the driver’s side and stick the Buck in the man’ face.

He saw Ross step closer to the car and lean in the window and a sudden flash of insight came to him. Was this how Ross hunted? Did he lure people in, put them in a position where they let him into their cars willingly? If so, that gave them something in common. Jim had often used his friendly demeanour to make people comfortable enough that they went with him willingly. Ross straightened up and seemed to be considering things, when suddenly the car door opened. He hesitated only a moment before getting in. The car door closed and then the Lexus pulled off, driving past Jim’s truck. Jim let it go past and then started the engine and drove after it.

He kept to a safe distance as before, noting that the car was heading off up Broadway. Maybe Ross was taking him back to the apartment. But when they got to Ross’ street and the car didn’t make any moves to slow down or stop. In fact it turned west and Jim followed.

The Lexus finally turned onto the Henry Hudson Parkway, going up through Riverside Park. Jim’s interest was now very much engaged. He had no idea where they were going, but he was sure as fuck going to find out.

********

Ross leaned back in the leather seat of the car and watched the street lamps flash by.

‘So where are you taking me?’ the man asked, giving him a sidelong look.

‘Inspiration Point.’ Ross replied, not looking at him. ‘I like fucking outside.’

‘Kinky.’ The man replied, letting his hand run up the inside of Ross’ thigh. ‘And you do everything?’

‘Anything you want.’ Ross said, trying to sound bored to cover up the rapidly building excitement he was feeling. He was already getting hard in anticipation. Thank fuck he had come prepared with Mathilde’s knife hidden in a side pocket, along with an LED torch and a couple of plastic zip lock bags for any fortuitous trophy taking he might encounter.

The car moved along the highway, turning off onto the Hudson River Greenway just before the George Washington Bridge and onto the darker section of the road. Inspiration Point wasn’t too far away and Ross took a deep breath and let the feelings inside him wash over him, clearing him out in preparation for the thing he was about to do. The man’s hand was now on his cock squeezing just hard enough, and Ross closed his eyes and stretched his arms above his head, letting it happen.

He would have his fun soon enough.

They got to the stretch of road that led to the Point and the man pulled over onto the opposite side. There were no other cars there and Ross felt the buzz of anticipation starting in his stomach. He opened the door and got out, coming around the back of the car and waiting for the man to get out and then close and lock the driver’s side door. They crossed the road together, Ross slinging his bag over one shoulder.

On the other side, the colonnaded lookout was in semi-darkness. This wasn’t where Ross wanted to go anyway. Just below the colonnade was a stretch of gently sloping land, covered in trees and thick undergrowth down to the concrete barrier that separated it from the next stretch of highway. It was just thick enough to hide what was happening from the cars passing by, not that there were many at this time of the morning, and yet still make the people he’d brought here feel secure in the oncoming headlights. And best of all, about twenty feet down was a storm drain tunnel, tall enough to stand in and completely hidden from the road. It was the perfect spot. He led the way to the right of the colonnade and wiggled the iron fencing just enough to create a gap. When he looked back, Ross saw the man had stopped dead.

‘You’re kidding.’ he said and Ross grinned.

‘You want to do it in your car, fine.’ he replied. ‘Or if you want we can fuck up against one of the pillars. Sure the cops will love that if they pass by.’ He walked back over to the man, giving it just enough sashay to see the man’s face go momentarily go blank with lust. When he got to him, Ross ran one hand over his chest and then up his neck. He didn’t think as he leaned in and kissed him, just used every trick he knew. The man responded very enthusiastically and Ross grimaced internally at the lack of finesse he had when the man shoved his tongue into his mouth. Still, he needed to play this right. When he finally pushed the man away, Ross was pleased to see him chase Ross’ mouth. He took the man’s hand.

‘Come on.’ he said and led him to the fencing, holding it open for him to get through.

‘I must be fucking crazy.’ the man said. ‘Your ass better be worth it.’

‘Oh, it is.’ Ross said. He let the fencing fall closed behind him and led the man down the slope. ‘Be careful though, it can get a little slippery here.’

‘No fucking kidding. You know these shoes cost me seven hundred bucks.’ the man said.

‘Wow. Imagine that.’ Ross said, his gentle mockery flying over the man’s head. In the trees it was very dark, with the occasional pinpricks of light as cars went by. Even the sound was muffled here. It was about five minutes to the storm drain and when they got there Ross heard the man snort derisively.

‘I’m not going in there.’ he declared.

‘Well you’re not fucking me out here.’ Ross said. ‘If you wanted high class, you should have paid for a hotel room.’ He went up the slope to where it levelled out. ‘It’s dry and it’s private. And in there you can do anything you want to me.’ That last bit was suggestive, just enough challenge to get the man moving up the slope after him.

The storm tunnel was deep, heading back under the highways, but about thirty feet in it was sealed off with a barred gate. That still left plenty of space though and as soon as they got into the shadows right at the back, the guy had Ross up against the gate, kissing him hard. Ross kissed back, letting his bag drop to the floor within easy reach. It would be a matter of seconds to reach in and grab the knife in the side pocket.

The man’s hands were on his belt buckle, trying to undo it. Ross wasn’t quite ready to head in that direction just yet. He wasn’t going to actually go so far as let the guy fuck him. He stepped back and the man grabbed at his arm.

‘You backing out on me?’ he asked and Ross shook his head, then realised that he couldn’t be seen in the dark.

‘No.’ he replied. ‘But we have time.’ He got to his knees and heard the intake of breath that it elicited. Ross smiled and unclipped the belt and then worked on the button of the man’s trousers. ‘You have a preference?’

‘I want to fuck your mouth.’ the man replied, his voice thickening.

‘For two hundred, you can fuck any bit of me you want.’ Ross said, reaching into the man’s briefs and pulling out his cock. He was pleased to note that at least he was cut. A lot of guys didn’t quite know what penile hygiene was. He tried an experimental lick and the man went still.

‘Fuck.’ he hissed and Ross moved his hand up and down a couple of strokes. The man was hard as a rock. Then he leaned in, one hand holding the man’s cock still as he took it in his mouth. The heavy breathing turned into whining quickly. Ross moved his head in a steady rhythm, his right hand reaching out for his bag and slipping under the flap. The knife was right there, and he withdrew it as quietly as possible. His stomach twisted in trepidation, the intoxication of what would be happening very shortly building steadily inside him.

Above him the man was thrusting into his mouth, one hand going to Ross’ head to hold him still. Ross relaxed as much as possible and took it. Swallowing a little cum would be a small price to pay for what he would get in return. He sucked hard and felt the man start to shake. His fingers closed around the hilt of the knife. He would get the guy off then get to his feet and just slip it in, quick and quiet. Once the kicking and fighting stopped, Ross could lower him to the ground and play as quickly as he could. He couldn’t cut the man open like he’d want to, but he’d be able to take the eyes. It would hopefully be enough. Then maybe a little display on his windowsill for his no doubt eagle-eyed follower.

There was a loud moan and Ross knew the man was close. He deep throated the hell out of him and felt the spasm that heralded the man’s orgasm, holding on tightly as he came in Ross’ mouth. He swallowed convulsively and got ready to strike.

Then something happened that he hadn’t counted on. The man shoved Ross away violently and he was so caught off guard he fell backwards onto the floor of the tunnel. There was metallic clanking sound as the knife flew from Ross’ hand and disappeared somewhere into the darkness.

‘Fucking whore!’ the man shouted and Ross was so taken aback he simply sat there in the dark. ‘You’re all the fucking same. Open your fucking mouth for anyone.’ He sounded desperately unhinged an Ross couldn’t comprehend how they had gone from him wanting to fuck Ross to now sounding like he didn’t want to touch him with a bargepole. ‘Offer to pay you enough and you’re let me stick my dick anywhere you want, right?’ There was a loud click and suddenly the light of a Zippo chased away the darkness. The man’s face was demonic as he stared down at Ross, who was still on his backside. ‘Well, you’re right about that. I’ll stick it any place I goddamn want and I won’t be paying for it either.’ He walked towards Ross who was so surprised by this turn of events that his mouth engaged before his brain could be consulted.

‘I’m sorry.’ he managed. ‘Are you threatening to rape me?’ That bought the man up short with an equally surprised look on his face.

‘It’s not rape if you’re a guy.’ he sneered and Ross looked around for the knife, just catching sight of it in the light from the flame. He threw himself to the left and grabbed for it. The man above him wasn’t quite as quick, and Ross was back on his feet before he was able to get to him. He held out the knife and saw a look of fear flash across the man’s face.

‘Pretty sure it still counts.’ he retorted, a little out of breath. Now he was really going to enjoy this one. He made a feint with the knife but the man extinguished the flame and the sudden plunge into darkness completely blinded Ross. He felt the man’s body hit him and he went down, struggling wildly. The knife was knocked from his hand and then there were hands around his throat. Ross grabbed at the man’s wrists, digging in his nails and heard the man hiss in pain.

‘Fucking queers.’ he snarled, sitting down hard on Ross’ mid-section. ‘No fucking morals, all of you.’ His grip was insanely strong and Ross started to get hazy as his blood supply was restricted. Just as he felt like he was about to black out though, the pressure was suddenly gone. It took him a moment to realise that the man was no longer sitting on him and he sat up, coughing and rubbing his neck where the man had been trying to choke him.

‘You know, you really should be more careful.’ a well-modulated voice said out of the dark. The crisp British accent spoke of an excellent private school education. ‘We’re not the only things that hunt in the shadows.’ There was another click and the tunnel was suddenly flooded with light from a Maglite, held in the hand of another man. Ross was completely astonished to see that the man who’d picked him up was on his knees, groaning with a hand to the side of his head which now appeared to be bleeding profusely. He looked up at the other man and saw a face in shadow under a dark blue baseball cap, the beam from the torch directed at Ross’ attacker from where he held it next to his face. Ross realised that it was probably what had inflicted the head wound. He watched as the man stepped towards him and held out a hand. Ross took it hesitantly and was pulled to his feet almost effortlessly. No wonder his attacker had gone down if that strength had been directed into the blow. He stood a little unsteadily, brushing himself down, then realised just what a bizarre situation he’d found himself in. Meanwhile his attacker seemed to have come to his senses.

‘It’s not what it looks like.’ he babbled, looking accusingly at Ross. ‘This whore was trying to roll me.’

‘Bollocks.’ The other man retorted and it was so British, Ross couldn’t help but smile. ‘I heard enough of your conversation to realise just exactly what you were up to.’ The beam of light swung to him and Ross blinked into it. ‘You’re lucky, although you let him get the jump on you. You should know better.’ He sounded chiding and Ross bridled a little at that in spite of the fact that whoever the man was, he’d effectively just gotten Ross out of a sticky situation.

‘Yeah well I wasn’t expecting him to be a fucking rapist was I?’ he retorted and there was a chuckle from the shadow.

‘Why not?’ he asked. ‘If we are out prowling around, it would stand to reason there’s some of his lot too.’

Those words took a while to register, but when they did Ross’ eyes went wide as a startled deer’s.

‘Fuck me.’ he breathed. ‘It’s you.’ He lifted his hand to his eyes to shade them and get a better look. ‘Who the fuck are you?’ There was just enough movement behind the torch beam for him to know the man was smiling.

‘You’ll find out soon enough.’ He said and there was movement. A hand was extended and Ross suddenly noticed that it was encased in a black latex glove and that it held another pair of the same. ‘But first things first. Lesson Number One. Always glove the fuck up.’

Ross blinked in surprise then reached out and took the gloves. His attacker was still kneeling between them and he was looking from Ross to the other man, confusion written all over his dazed face. Ross looked at the man with the torch and saw a nod. He pulled the gloves on one by one, the latex snapping around his wrists.

‘Good.’ the man said. The hand moved down into the shadow and this time when it came back there was a folded knife in it and the torch was being held out to Ross, the beam still trained on his attacker. Ross stared at it and then took it. ‘Lesson Number Two. Unless they’re restrained, finish them quickly. Makes it easier for you to do what you want.’ The man stepped into the light of the torch. He grabbed the hair of Ross’ attacker and yanked his head back. There was snick, the flash of blade and then he cut the man’s throat in one effortless movement. The blood sprayed out, a jet of brilliant red in the torchlight and Ross stared at it, completely mesmerised. The man had turned, angled away from the spray and out of the light.

Ross couldn’t help himself, so he stuck out one hand and saw the spray splatter across the latex that covered it. It smelled rich and hot and metallic and he wanted to lick it off his hand. The man struggled weakly in the other’s iron grip, his strangled chokes echoing in the tunnel until he finally went limp.

The chuckle sounded again and Ross looked up at the shadow as he let go of the man’s hair and his body fell to the floor, the puddle of blood spreading out around him. Then he saw the hand extend into the light, the bloodied blade being held handle first towards him.

‘Show me.’ the man said and something in is tone hit Ross low in his gut and he would forever swear that he got hard in under ten seconds. He didn’t need to ask for an explanation. He knew what the man wanted. He reached out and took the knife, offering the torch in return to the still outstretched hand. The man took it and stepped away from the body to give him room. Ross moved, barely able to comprehend all that had happened in the last ten minutes. He could hardly believe that this was happening. He knew he should run, should resist the dreadful temptation. He shouldn’t be doing this in front of someone else. Then, almost as if he had read Ross’ mind, the other man spoke.

‘It’s all right.’ he said and his voice was wonderfully soothing. ‘You’re not showing me anything that will make me run away.’ Ross tried to look at him, but couldn’t see his face.

‘How do I know I can trust you?’ he asked and the soft laugh came again.

‘I just cut a man’s throat for you, Ross.’ and Ross shivered at the sound of his name coming from the man’s lips. ‘You can trust me.’

Ross looked down at the man’s body and then gave in. He knelt down, heedless of the blood that soaked into the knees of his jeans. The first cut slit the man’s shirt up the front and Ross pulled it back to expose his chest and stomach. The next went down into his belly, slashing up towards the diaphragm. It felt so good and as the stench of his innards hit Ross’ nose, he let out an involuntary sound. He hadn’t done this in so long and he completely lost himself in it, stabbing and opening up the man’s body until he could side both hands in, feeling the divine slipperiness coat him up to the elbows, regardless of what was around him. Ross had no idea why he was letting go like this, hadn’t once done this since he’d come to this country, but there was something steadying about having the other man there, watching him. Ross felt like he would stop him if it got too much and kept waiting for something, any sign that he should restrain himself, but it never came.  
He didn’t know how long it went on for, but eventually Ross withdrew from the man’s body cavity and turned his attention to his eyes. He stated to shuffle forward on his knees, knife in hand when he felt a soft touch on his shoulder.

‘No.’ the man said and then there was hand being held out to him. ‘Let me show you this time.’ Ross stared at the hand, blood-happy and actually a little out of it. He finally handed the knife back and watched as the man came to crouch next to him. He was close enough for Ross to get a wave of fragrance, a heady woodiness and a cool mineral tone that made his head swim. It weaved in and out of his senses, an ethereal thing that was there one second and gone the next. He watched as the man turned the blade around in his gloved hand and then expertly enucleated the eyeball, hooking it up and out without damaging it at all. A faint flicker of something he couldn’t put his finger on woke up inside Ross, but he ignored it in favour of watching closely as the man extracted the eyeball completely and then cut neatly through the stringy optic nerve. He held the eyeball in one hand and turned his head ever so slightly to Ross.

‘You got something to put this in?’ he asked, and Ross nodded.

‘Yeah, hang on.’ he said and got to his feet. He walked over to the far side of the tunnel where his bag still was and then frowned. He was covered in blood and couldn’t take anything out. There was a huff of laughter behind him.

‘Jesus fuck, you’re an amateur.’ the man said, but there was a fondness in his voice that turned it into something more resembling a compliment than an insult. ‘How the fuck have the cops not caught you yet?’ There was a sound and Ross turned to see the man had taken a plastic zip lock bag out his own pocket. The first eye went in with a wet noise and then the man made quick work of the second. He sealed the bag and held it up. Ross looked at him and then at the eyeballs. The man saw his hesitation and there was a ghost of a smile in the shadow of his face. ‘Take them, they’re for you.’ Ross swallowed noisily and stepped forward to take the bag from him.

‘Thank you.’ he said, as polite as if the man had just handed him a newspaper. He looked at them. ‘You sent me the other ones, didn’t you?’

‘I would have thought that was fairly obvious by now.’ the man said, straightening up. ‘Did you like them?’

‘I did.’ Ross said. A feeling was uncurling in his stomach and it was making him shiver. ‘The flowers were also beautiful.’

‘Yeah, well. They kind of reminded me of you a little bit.’ the man said, looking down at the body. ‘Now what the fuck are we going to do with him?’

They ended up leaving the body where it was after the man had frisked him and removed his phone and wallet and keys. He'd even gone through the guy's wallet, taking out five one hundred dollar bills and handing them to Ross who'd frowned and then taken them. Ross picked up his bag, retrieved his knife and followed the man out of the storm drain. It was already four in the morning and the light was just starting to very faintly tinge the sky, which was now a rich dark blue rather than black. When they got to the road, the man looked at Ross and frowned.

‘You were in his car?’ he asked and Ross nodded. ‘Shit.’ He took off his gloves, turning them inside out and took a mobile phone out his pocket. He dialled and then waited until someone picked up then rattled off something in Spanish. When he was done, he disconnected the call and looked at Ross then at the black truck parked behind the man’s car. ‘That’s taken care of. Hopefully they’ll only find him in a couple of days.’ He looked at Ross. ‘We really need to work on your disposal system. Like get you into one for a start.’

‘Why are you doing this?’ Ross found himself asking, copying the man’s gesture and then shoving the bloodied gloves in his front pocket.

‘Why indeed?’ the man asked in reply. ‘Do you need a ride home?’

‘Yeah. Why the fuck not?’ Ross said, snappish because of the rebuke he'd just been given. ‘You already know where I live, right?’ There was another shadowy smile and then the man crossed the road, Ross in tow. To Ross’ surprise, he went around to the passenger side, unlocking the door to the truck and opening it for Ross. Ross frowned and then gestured at his bloody clothes.

‘It’s fine. I’ll take care of it.’ the man said. Ross got in, feeling very odd indeed, then automatically leaned over and unlocked the driver’s door. The man got in and did up his seatbelt. Ross was surprised. The man looked at him. ‘You know, Bundy got done because of not wearing his seatbelt, right? It’s the little things.’ Ross dutifully did his up and the man started the car and pulled out onto the empty road. He turned the radio on and Metallica came out. Ross was pleasantly surprised to recognise the song as Suicide and Redemption.

They drove up the road until they could come off and the turn around. Then came the long drive back downtown, although his new ‘friend’ certainly seemed to like taking alternate routes. Ross looked at him, his curiosity finally being able to raise its head now the adrenaline and shock of the events of the past two hours was wearing off.

He saw a fine profile under the baseball cap, with a perfectly straight nose, slightly too long perhaps. The lips were full, the chin strong with a hint of cleft in the light of the street lamps they passed. The band of light thrown up from the headlamps showed Ross that the man's eyes were light. They got to a red traffic light and he braked then clocked that Ross was looking at him. He sighed and reached up, taking off the baseball cap. The light from outside hit his face and Ross could see he was blond. That, coupled with his features, reached into the back of Ross’ brain and rang a bell.

‘Motherfucker.’ he breathed. ‘You?’

The man he knew as Christian’s ex-boyfriend didn’t say anything. Instead Ross got a sidelong smile.

They got to Ross’ apartment building and the man parked up and turned off the engine. He looked at Ross.

‘Now listen to me carefully.’ he said. ‘You go in and you take off everything you’re wearing. Then you stick it in a rubbish bag and tomorrow you fucking burn it. I don’t care how or where, but you make sure all of it is fucking incinerated. I’ll get rid of the boots. And you shower, make sure you scrub yourself down, fingers especially.’

‘What about his car?’ Ross asked and the man grinned. Two deep dimples appeared in his cheeks and for some ungodly reason, Ross’ heart sped up.

‘I have asked someone to take care of it. That’s not good because now it means I won him one. Which means you own me one.’ The grin turned into a smile and the dimples became cavernous. ‘Did you fuck him?’ Ross thought he had misheard.

‘Excuse me?’ he asked.

‘Did. You. Fuck. Him?’ The man said, speaking slowly and clearly. ‘Bodily fluids are a sure way to get caught.’ Ross found himself blushing furiously.

‘I went down on him.’ he finally said.

‘Saliva.’ the man said. ‘That was stupid. You’re not going to do that again.’ There was a hint of possessiveness in his voice and Ross knew he should be outraged, but that wasn’t what his body was telling him. It was practically singing out at it. ‘Well, there was a lot of blood so hopefully it will be contaminated.’ He sighed. ‘It’s been one hell of a night.’

‘Who are you?’ Ross asked, an echo from earlier. ‘I don’t even know your fucking name.’ The man turned to look at him directly and Ross would have guessed his eyes were either blue or green. Their gazes locked and held and they just looked at each other.

Ross didn’t know where it came from, or even how it started. It made no sense to him at all. This was the same man he’d seen at the party and openly dismissed. This was the man he’d looked at and stuck in the box marked safe and boring and dull.

Except now he wasn’t.

Now Ross was looking into those light eyes and damn if his head, heart and everything in between wasn’t screaming for Ross to kiss him.

‘Now what?’ he asked and heard the tremble in his own voice. The man leaned in and Ross’ heart leaped as for one crazy moment he thought that the kiss he was currently fantasising about was going to happen.

It didn’t.

Instead the man leaned past him and opened the car door.

‘Now you go inside, clean yourself up and got to bed.’ he said. ‘And for fuck’s sake keep your head down for a few days.’ Ross inhaled shakily at his proximity. Up this close, he could see the gleam of light stubble along the man’s jawline, smell that wonderful scent. ‘Now get out of my car.’

Ross did, practically falling over his feet. He grabbed his bag and left his boots, which he’d taken off under instruction. The blood had soaked through them and his socks were now bundled up and in his pocket. He closed the car door and then knocked on the window a moment later. The window slid down.

‘Am I going to see you again?’ Ross asked, hating the uncertainty and hope in his voice. He didn’t get an answer. Instead the man started the car and put it in gear. Ross stepped back and watched him drive off, his heart pounding.  
He waited until the tail lights from the truck had disappeared then went inside, intensely grateful he’d worn black that night. The blood didn’t show up on it, although if someone had smelled him, they would definitely have known something was up.

That, however was the least of his problems.

The problem was that he was standing in the lobby of his apartment block having just aided and abetted a vicious murder with a clearly psychopathic ex-boyfriend of a man he’d fucked three weeks before and whose eyes were currently sitting in a jar in the heating vent of his room. Not only that, but the same ex-boyfriend had just cut out the eyes of the man they had killed and given them to Ross like some sort of present. Last, but not least, he was about to go upstairs and tidy up the evidence of a major crime.

And in spite of all of that, all Ross could think about was how fast his heart was beating, and how much he wanted to know what the man’s name was so he could say it with the reverence he felt. How his skin suddenly felt like it was on fire and he was getting hard just from a hint of wood and stone and a pair of light eyes whose colour he couldn’t even be sure of. How the falling sensation in his stomach was the most amazing thing he had ever felt.

That was the problem.

He got upstairs, and made it into the bathroom before he ripped his jeans open and frantically jerked off, the blood on him and the memory of that smell, the sure voice and the strength in the hand that had pulled him to his feet making Ross come so hard he was unable to stand and instead slid to the floor. He sat there, breathing hard and let his head fall back against the door.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ he breathed.

*********

Jim didn’t even make it two streets across before he had to pull over. He was so hard it physically hurt and he only had to undo his belt and jeans buttons so he could shove his hand down the front of them before he came, his choked off cry loud in his own ears.

He drove the rest of the way home in stunned silence, barely able to comprehend what had just happened to him.

When he got in, Jim went straight upstairs without stopping to check if Jana had gone to bed or not. The boys were not in their customary place on his bed, so he assumed she must still be on the sofa, probably asleep. He went into the bathroom and stripped off efficiently, dumping all his clothes in a pile on the floor, his bloodied jeans the last to go on top. His boots went on top of that.

That whole thing had been a fuck up from start to finish, and Jim’s calculating mind recoiled in horror from what he’d just done. Leaving the body behind was going to no doubt fuck things up colossally. Thank fuck it was in a reasonably out of the way place and with any luck the rats would make things so bad the cops would have a hard time finding anything. Still, forensically it was making his skin crawl at the potential for discovery. He got the shower started and waited for it to get as hot as he could stand and then got in. His clean-up was thorough and he paid attention to every inch of himself. All the while, the images swirled around in his head.

It had been the most visceral, amazing half hour of his entire life.

Jim had always kept things as tightly bound as they could be. He’d been a professional killer long before he became what he was now, killing to satisfy the need inside him. This had taught him to be scrupulous with clean-up, to express his desires in as neat a way as he could. After his first grand piece had been discovered, Jim had shut it down. He still wrote, still made the kills his, but the showiness, the post mortem display and mutilations were gone. It wasn’t worth the risk of being caught.

He honestly hadn’t known what to expect when he’d parked behind the Lexus and followed them down into the dark. He had expected something rather disorganised, but Ross had surpassed that spectacularly. Jim had arrived just as Ross was being shoved to the ground and acted on instinct as soon as the light went out. He had excellent night vision from his subterranean activities, and there had just been enough light for him to get in and deal with the man Ross was with, cracking him hard on the head with the Maglite. He had meant to get Ross the fuck out of there as quickly as possible. Just drag him with him and go.

But something had snapped inside him and he’d found himself grabbing hold of the man, filled with rage at the presumption that he had thought he could touch someone that Jim was already regarding as his. Cutting his throat had felt good. Not just good, actually. It had set every nerve ending in Jim’s body on fire and now he realised it was because he had done it for Ross, in front of him. He had seen the admiration in the dark eyes. Then he’d realised the next step was a simple one, holding out his knife and saying ‘Show me.’

And Ross had certainly shown him. It had been breath-taking.

Jim had never seen such disregard for the laws that governed human behaviour before. Ross was like an animal, his frenzied mutilation of the man’s body one of the most terrifying things Jim had ever witnessed. He had been completely unhinged, not the slightest bit in control of himself.

It had made Jim so hard he was sure that if Ross had carried on, he probably would have come just from watching him.

Like he was hard now, just from thinking about it.

Jim dropped his hand to his cock, dragging the pleasure out until he could barely stand and hoping that the closed doors and the sound of the shower was drowning out the cries he couldn’t keep in anymore. When he came, it was so strong that his knees almost gave out.

‘Fuck.’ he breathed, his heart racing and his confusion now so deeply embedded by what he was feeling, Jim knew he had no choice but to go with it. ‘Fuck…’

*********

On the Upper East Side, Ross was in a similar state of being. The quick orgasm in the bathroom had only been the beginning.

He had done as the man had instructed, washing himself thoroughly and putting all his bloodied clothes into a black bag for disposal and then cleaned the bathroom until you could have eaten off the floor. Because it was a pre-war building, there was an incinerator down in the basement. Ross had changed into clean clothes, gone down the service stairs and picked the lock of the boiler room, then gone inside and chucked everything in. He’d watched it burn, and then retreated back upstairs to his apartment and locked himself in his room.

He’d stood and looked at his bed, then opened the bedside drawer, chucking the lube and a couple of other things he kept in there onto the sheets, stripped off his clothes and gone to town. He was now four orgasms down and showing absolutely no sign of slowing or burning out. Every time he closed his eyes, all Ross could see was a dimpled smile and a pair of light coloured eyes that looked at him thoughtfully and that got him going all over again.

He worked the vibrator he currently had inside him hard while he jerked himself off, the overstimulation of his prostate and cock bordering on painful, and let himself curse and moan and pant as much as he wanted to, the other two people in the apartment be damned. Ross could never remember being this turned on in his entire life and he was taking advantage of it as much as he could. And each time he came it was to the thought of those sure, steady hands on him, the same hands that he’d watch slit a man’s throat with brutal efficiency.

The next cresting wave of pleasure started to build and Ross drove the vibrator deeper, imagining it was the other’s cock and thinking of how he would look leaning over Ross, his hair a mess, his hips driving him so far inside Ross that all he could feel, could sense, would be the connection between them and those watchful eyes locked onto him. His whole body arched off the bed as he came, the shout escaping him enough to make Cilla pound on the wall that separated their rooms.

‘Jesus fucking Christ!’ she yelled. ‘Enough already!’ Ross lay back on the bed as the endorphins surged through his bloodstream and laughed.

This was going to wreck him.

The thing was, he didn’t give a fuck.


	13. Courting Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next part of the courtship. Things get...interesting.

_Before_

The alarm went and Ross jolted awake. He reached for his phone, dismissing the siren that he had set to wake him up (not much else would do it) and groaned. He was still exhausted from the night before, the physical exertion and mental stress combining to make him feel more tired than he’d ever felt.

He looked at the time and lay back on his bed, closing his eyes and wishing that he could just call in sick or not turn up. But that would be like blood in the water and he would be replaced faster than you could say ‘unemployed’. The New York theatre scene was ruthless and he couldn’t afford to be on the wrong side of it. At least he had a day off on Sunday and then only had to be back at the theatre at three on Monday.

Ross took a moment to consider what his next move should be. Every part of him ached, including his arse which he’d definitely abused well into the early hours of the morning. Eventually he rolled over and off the bed onto his feet and sat up, running one hand through his hair and yawning. He stood up, wincing at new bruises from where he’d been shoved onto the ground and then jumped on.

He did a catalogue of them when he got to the bathroom. There was a light mottling around his neck and a couple of much darker ones colouring his ribs. Ross pressed his fingers to them, hissing softly at the flare of pain. He stared at himself in the mirror and completely surprised himself by smiling broadly.

‘You fucking idiot.’ he told his reflection. ‘You don’t even know his fucking name.’

‘Whose name?’ Cilla asked. Ross spun around and glared at her.

‘Do you have to sneak up on me like that?” he demanded and she laughed.

‘As the person who had to lie awake listening to you stick things up your ass all fucking night, yes I do.’ she said. ‘Jesus Christ, you’ve got it fucking bad.’ Ross opened his mouth to protest and then shut it. He turned back to his reflection.

‘I know.’ he said.

***********

Jim didn’t normally sleep in, even on Saturdays. But this morning he was still asleep when the front door slammed and Jana called upstairs to him. There was the sound of toenails clicking on the wooden floors and then two little bodies hit the bed, and two long pink tongues decided he needed a face wash. Jim half groaned, half laughed as he tried to fend them off but Zeus and Apollo were having none of it and eventually wormed their way under the duvet to snuggle up next to him. Jim lay back and draped one arm over his eyes to block out the light. He was completely knackered. After he had showered, he’d gone back down to his truck and cleaned the front thoroughly, getting rid of any sign of Ross or what they had done. Then he’d gone back inside and bagged up all the soiled clothing and cloths he’d used to clean the car and stashed them in the locked cupboard under the stairs. It was not his normal MO, but by that stage Jim had been so tired he couldn’t take care of it that night, or rather early morning as it had turned out. There was no incinerator at the apartment and Jim usually disposed of things at the yard by burning them in an empty oil drum. Here he had no recourse to that and so they would just have to be hidden until he could sort things out.

Using his arm wasn’t working to keep out all the light, so Jim turned over until he was face down in the pillow.

‘Jim.’ Jana’s voice came from the doorway. ‘Are you sick?’ She didn’t sound concerned in the slightest.

‘No.’ he muttered into the pillow.

‘Then get up.’ Jana said. ‘I make you breakfast.’ Her footsteps disappeared downstairs. Jim heaved a sigh and lifted his head enough to squint at the clock on his bedside table. It was after two.

‘Jesus Christ.’ he muttered. ‘I’m not even fucking him and he’s already dicking with my schedule.’ He snuggled back down into the bedding and the dachshunds stretched out next to him. Jim rubbed Zeus’ belly and a small smile crept onto his face, completely unbidden. ‘Good thing he’s cute.’ Zeus sighed under his hand.

He lay there until Jana yelled up the stairs for him and then got out of bed. He stumbled into the bathroom to pee and then headed down to the kitchen still in the t-shirt and sweats he’d gone to sleep in. When he got there, Jana snorted as she took in his dishevelled state.

‘You look like shit.’ she said, gesturing to a chair and then slamming down a plate full of scrambled eggs, wholewheat toast and bacon in front of him. Jim reached for the glass of orange juice she had poured him and downed half of it.

‘Thank you.’ he replied, but the sarcasm came out sounding flat. He ate a forkful of eggs and then the hunger kicked in full force and he didn’t say anything else until he had finished his breakfast. Jana watched him from across the table and raised an eyebrow at him over her coffee cup.

‘What did you do last night?’ she asked and Jim stifled a smile. ‘You are acting like you do when you get end away.’

Jim wanted to laugh out loud. If only that had been the situation.

‘Sadly that was not the case.’ he replied, not bothering to acknowledge the traitorous little voice in his head that was telling him that he could, if he just played his cards right.

‘Pity.’ Jana said. ‘I thought you were seeing someone. You need date. You have been very cranky.’

‘I am not cranky.’ Jim protested, sounding extremely cranky.

‘I thought you were chasing man last night.’ Jana repeated. Jim looked at her and realised that her blue eyes were fixed on him.

‘You said that already.’ he replied and she narrowed her eyes at him.

‘I wait for you to tell truth.’ she said. ‘I know you were chasing man. Same one you have been chasing for two weeks.’ Jim gaped at her.

‘How the fuck…’ he started and Jana gave him a half shrug.

“I know when you lie.’ she said and sipped her coffee. Jim glared at her.

‘Are you sure you weren’t part of the KGB?’ he asked. ‘Some sort of weird kid spy programme. Like the Black Widow.’ Jana snorted.

‘They cannot even get name right.’ she said in a disgusted voice. ‘You should ask him out.’

‘I can’t.’ Jim replied.

‘Why not.’ she asked, frowning a little. ‘He is married?’

‘No.’ Jim replied, somewhat indignantly.

‘He is ugly.’ Jana said.

‘Christ no.’ Jim responded, and that little voice in his head snickered. ‘Look, it’s a little complicated…’

‘Pfffft.’ Jana’s expression was dismissive. ‘You make complicated. You always do. Ask him to dinner. Tomorrow. I take boys home with me. You have house to yourself so you can fuck where you want.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ Jim muttered to his empty plate.

**********

He managed to gird his loins at about four o’clock, getting dressed and taking the bag of evidence out to the truck. He drove to Willet’s Point and spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening down amongst his plants and equipment. He had a full hydroponic set up driven by a generator, and a room that was devoted to his distillation kit. Making his little chemical compounds was fun and it relaxed him enough to get his head in the right place. He went from one room to the other, pruning and cutting and making extracts. All the while his lovely ladies of choice crooned to him in his ears.

When he was done pottering around, Jim went down into the tunnels and out towards the river. The tunnels under the building eventually linked back up with the old Long Island Railway tunnels and there was one spot where they came out into a piece of scrubland that overlooked Flushing River where he could burn things and the smoke would be dispersed.

He leaned back against the wall and watched the flames flicker and dance in the drum. The man’s wallet, keys and mobile were in there as well and Jim heaved a sigh as he contemplated what had brought him to that point. Nina sang in his ears, her smoky voice making more sense than anything else had for the past few days.

_My poor heart is sentimental_  
_Not made of wood_  
_Cause I got it bad, and that ain’t good_

Jana was right. It was time to take this to the next level. Otherwise this crazy ache in his heart was surely going to give him a coronary.

_Lord above me_  
_Make him love me_  
_The way he should_  
_The way he should_  
_Because I’ve got it so bad, and that ain’t good_

When he left, Jim stopped by his florist of choice, went in and bought the same thing he’d bought a day before. The woman behind the counter hand tied the roses for him and handed them over with a smile.

‘Someone’s a lucky girl. Twice in two days.’ she said with a knowing smile. Jim made a mental note to change florists.

‘He’s a lucky boy actually.’ he replied and left the shop. In the car on the way to the theatre, he obsessed briefly over what to write in the card the woman had given him. Eventually he pulled up outside the building and took a moment to write it, then tucked it amongst the blooms. The man behind the ticket desk was very accommodating for fifty dollars, and Jim left the flowers with him and went back to his truck.

**********

Ross got off stage that night feeling like he had been dragged backwards through an entire forest, never mind a bush. He got to the dressing room and went to his section of the mirror and then stopped dead as he saw the flowers. His heart immediately started to thump in his chest.

The rest of the cast swarmed around him, but for Ross it seemed that time had slowed to a crawl. He walked over to the roses and saw that this time there was a card. His hand trembled as he reached for it.

‘Wow.’ Ross spun around and saw Demelza standing behind him. Her lips were thin with displeasure. ‘Looks like you have an admirer.’ She stalked off, and Ross looked down at the card in his hand. He opened the card and looked at the same handwriting that had turned his world upside down two days before.

_Tomorrow. Eight o’clock. Don’t be late._

There was an address written underneath.

Ross bit his lower lip to stop himself smiling like a maniac. He shoved the card in his pocket and stuck his face in the flowers.

***********

Jim spent the rest of the night poring over cookbooks and freaking out over what to wear. He went to bed early, the dogs snuggled into his side while he read Herodotus and dropped off at nine. He woke up the next morning and lay in bed, the unfamiliar feeling of nervous tension turning over in his stomach. Jim hadn’t been nervous for a date since…well since never.

Jim got up, showered and dressed and went downstairs, the boys frisking around his ankles. He fed them and got their leads. They followed him to the door, wagging their tails frantically and Jim clipped them on, then left the apartment, stopping to enjoy the sun on his face as he stood on his front step. From there it was a fifteen minute walk down to Union Square. He was headed for the market, reasoning that he could kill two birds with one stone and exercise the boys and find something for dinner at the same time.

Zeus and Apollo scampered down the stairs in front of them, not hindered in the slightest by their short legs. Jim jogged down after them, laughing. He found he was doing that a lot these days. It irked him slightly.

The walk was a pleasant one and he took the time to actually enjoy where he was going. They got to Union Square Park and headed for the dog park, an enclosed area at the back. The market was already in full swing, the booths arranged in a semi-circle facing the back of the park. Jim opened the gate of the park and unclipped the boys, who ran in already wiggling in anticipation. He watched them play and made small talk with the other dog owners in there. It was all a distraction though, a way to get him through the day. He had set the time for dinner at eight and Jana was going to come collect the boys which would give him plenty of time to get everything, including himself, ready. But until then, Jim knew he would be on tenterhooks. Once he was finished at the dog park, he re-clipped the boys onto their leads and went into the market. It was almost nine, and he was getting hungry so Jim stopped and had a couple of breakfast tacos from the Mexican street food stall at the centre, washing them down with a cup of hot chocolate. He was in love with the bitter taste with hints of chilli. He wandered along, enjoying the sights and smells. One of the things Jim loved above all others was cooking. People were often surprised by this, but Silver had been a chef aboard private yachts for many years before he got rich enough to have someone cook for him. In fact Silver still did most of his own cooking, doing it for pleasure and using Jim as his willing guinea pig. And many nights when Jim was on school holidays had been spent in Silver’s kitchen, learning how to use knives and the art of preparing and cooking food properly.

Skills he was going to be putting to good use that night.

He spent a very large amount of money at the market, having thrown out all his grand ideas in favour of perfect simplicity, and headed home three hours later loaded down with shopping bags. It took a while to balance his keys and the dogs and the groceries and get inside the apartment but he finally managed it. His neighbours, a family of five that gave him side eye every time they saw him were just starting to come out their door. Jim gave them a frosty smile and the parents made every effort to avoid eye contact and get their brats out the front door as quickly as possible.

Jim mused that his feelings would have been hurt by their visible distaste, if he had feelings that was. Maybe once the kids were old enough to leave home, Jim would pay his neighbours a visit. He unlocked the front door of his apartment and went inside. He heard the sound of movement and Jana came into the hallway. She took the boys from him and unclipped them, fussing over them and cooing to them with more emotion he’d ever seen her show a person.

Jim took the bags into the kitchen, putting the meat and shellfish into the fridge and placing the ingredients for the dessert he was making on the counter. Jana came in behind him and gave the food on the counter a cursory once over.

‘Not very exciting.’ she remarked.

‘It’s perfect.’ Jim replied. ‘Have you cleaned upstairs?’

‘Yes, yes. Is all done.’ Jana said impatiently. ‘I put clean linens on bed, tidy and clean bathroom. Why I don’t know. You will only make untidy and I will have to do it again.’ Her tone was slightly mocking. ‘I have done downstairs too. Try not to make too much mess in kitchen.’

‘Fine.’ Jim said. He was going into busy mode and wanted her out of the house so he could get started. ‘In that case don’t let the front door hit you in the arse on the way out.’

‘I see you Monday.’ Jana said, picking up her bag from the sofa, and called the boys to her. They went without so much as a complaint. Jana was a queen in their little doggy eyes, a free handed distributor of treats and cuddles. ‘Come boys. Your daddy is too busy for us today.’

‘Out.’ Jim ordered and she cackled and left the room. Jim heard the front door close a moment later and heaved a sigh of relief. He loved Jana as much as he could love anyone, and she was the best friend he had, even if she was his employee, however her constant sarcasm and jibing would only out him completely on edge.

He put on music and settled down to make dessert, chocolate ganache to be served in small glasses with an inch of double cream sitting on top. It was very impressive, and Jim adored it. It was also good for licking off of things, the voice in his head gleefully informed him. Jim ignored it and paid attention to the task at hand. It didn’t take too long, the recipe so familiar to him that Jim didn’t need to consult a book.

Once he was finished, Jim cling wrapped the glasses and placed them in the fridge to chill. It was now three in the afternoon which meant he had another five hours to kill. For the first time in his life, Jim cursed his efficiency. He was tempted to have a drink to try and knock out some if his tension but decided against it.

Instead he headed up stairs and had a very long bath.

**********

Ross followed Cilla through Chelsea, laden down with shopping bags. He had enlisted her to come and help him find a new shirt and boots to wear on his date, but it had fast turned into an expedition through every boutique in search of an elusive pair of shoes that she wanted to track down. The shirt was already purchased, a deceptively expensive grey denim short, butter soft and velvety to the touch and he also had a new pair of work boots to replace the ones he’d left behind in the black truck.

‘So, you won’t tell me anything about this guy except that you met him at a party we were both at.’ Cilla said, picking up a fuschia pump and examining it.

‘Yup.’ Ross replied, not even bothering to keep the boredom out of his voice. ‘That’s about the long and short of it.’

‘That really doesn’t narrow things down.’ she said, sounding annoyed. ‘Do you know how many parties I go to?’

‘Well, if you managed to stay at least marginally sober at any of them then you would know.’ Ross retorted. He was enjoying her frustration at his stoic refusal to tell her anything at all about his date, other than the casual admission that he had one. Cilla predictably was miffed as fuck that he would reveal none of the details. He stood still so she could lean on him and try one of the pumps on. She eyeballed it and then put it back on the display.

‘What if he turns out to be like an axe murderer or something?’ she said and Ross snickered at her choice of words. ‘I won’t even be able to tell the cops where you are.’

‘I’ll take my chances.’ he replied. And if I don’t make it home tonight you can safely assume it’s because I’m being fucked seven different ways from Sunday.’

‘Whore.’ Cilla said, but it lacked her usual bite. ‘How the fuck am I suppose to live out my vicarious dreams of being a gay man if you won’t let me join in on the fun.’

‘You’re not.’ Ross said and then turned when she didn’t reply. He saw her staring at him in what approximated shock for her, which was to say she was standing there with her mouth open. ‘What?’

‘Jesus Christ.’ Cilla said. ‘You’re falling for this guy.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Ross snorted, but a tiny flock of butterflies started flitting around in his stomach at those words.

‘No.’ Cilla said, all seriousness now. ‘You are. Fuck.’ She shook her head at him. ‘Ross, you don’t even know him.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ Ross said with a small smile. ‘I know everything I need to know about him.’ And even as he said the words, he knew it was true. He had woken up more energised and feeling freer than he had since he’d moved to New York. All the nasty red clawing anger had evaporated and he was breathing easy. Not only that, but he was excited. Not because he’d let loose like he’d needed to for months, but because he’d shared it with someone and that someone was sharing back. It was heady, intoxicating stuff and Ross was drinking it down like a man dying of thirst.

‘Whatever.’ Cilla said dismissively. ‘When they drag your body out of the Hudson because you refused to tell me where you went, you’ll change your tune.’ Ross huffed and handed her shopping bags. She took them, looking confused. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Going to get what I need and give myself a break from your incessant interrogation.’ Ross said. He left her standing in the boutique looking outraged and headed out into the sun.

He walked along the streets up to midtown and stopped off at a Duane Reed and spent a ridiculously long time looking at lube, his mind nearly reeling at the excitement the thought of fucking the man that he’d killed with brought on. Unable to decide, Ross grabbed the six he liked most and headed for the cash desk. He dumped them down on the counter and then grabbed two packs of condoms from the display next to it and a large container of orange flavour Tic Tacs. The shop assistant was a young black woman and she stared at his purchases. She looked up at Ross with a grin on her face.

‘You think you’ve got enough?’ she asked and Ross, completely missing the humour, frowned and the added another two packs of condoms.

‘Good thinking,’ he said. ‘Should do now.’ The woman’s eyes went wide. She rung up his total and Ross used one of the illicit hundred dollar bills to pay for it, feeling a little thrill go through him. He took the bag from her, shoving it his messenger bag and headed back outside. He put his head phones on and lost himself in the music, Billy Idol’s voice bouncing around in his head and making him smile. He lit a cigarette and walked along, matching him steps to the pace of the song.

He got to 44th Street and passed a wine shop and stopped to take a closer look in the window. He had been invited for dinner and Ross was well bought up enough to know not to go empty handed. He went inside and an elegantly dressed man in a bow tie looked up at him from behind the counter. He gave Ross a top to toe once over and Ross smirked internally as he recognised the usual reaction of the eternally snobbish when they first saw him. To be fair he really didn’t look like much today, wearing jeans that were far from clean and a faded band t-shirt and his old Converse that were worn out at the sides.

The shop assistant came around the side of the counter, his tone sniffy. Ross shoved his hands in pockets and gave the man his most infuriatingly charming smile. He knew how to play this game.

‘I’m going for dinner tonight.’ he said, pushing his accent into Eton territory. The man’s not quite hidden look of shock as he heard him made Ross want to laugh. ‘I need a white and a red.’

‘Well, we carry a wonderful selection of both.’ The man said, recovering his composure. ‘However, we may be slightly out of your price range.’ He gave Ross a meaningful look. Ross sighed. He really didn’t have time to dick around with some wannabe sommelier with a superiority complex.

‘Is the owner in?’ he asked and the man’s face closed off immediately. ‘Perhaps they would be more amenable to helping me.’

‘I really don’t…’ the man started and then was interrupted by an elegant looking dark haired woman coming out the back room.

‘Can I help?’ she asked and Ross heard the eloquent notes of Paris in her accent. He gave her a dazzling smile and spoke to her in French. Her delighted surprise at his fluency led to a very enjoyable twenty minutes of her taking him from shelf to shelf until he had two very good bottles which came to just under a hundred and fifty dollars. He paid the now scowling shop assistant and left, laughing to himself as he headed to the subway station.

He stood in the train car and leaned into the movement, his mind filling with all sorts of interesting scenarios. He’d been very good the night before, coming straight home after his performance, not wanting to spend any time with the cast. It had been a little awkward anyway what with Zane not being able to look at him. Not that Ross gave a fuck at this point. He’d slept very late considering he’d been asleep by eleven, only getting up at twelve and was now busting with energy. Energy that he was very much looking forward to burning off. He couldn’t explain the sense of inevitability he had or why he was so sure that was the way the evening would head. It just felt to Ross like everything in his life had led him up to this point, and now everything was sliding into place. He was desperate to make a good impression.

At his stop, Ross bounded off the train and headed for the apartment. He got inside and went to his room, putting the wine and bags on his bed and hanging up his own bag on the dress rail before checking the time on his phone. It was half past four and he thought it would take about an hour to get down to Union Square and find the address in the card. That meant leaving at about seven. He had two and a half hours to get ready.

He started with a shower, washing his hair and making sure every inch of him was clean. It was extremely tempting to jerk off under the spray, thinking of the man’s hands on him, but Ross resisted. He went inside and out, not wanting anything to get in the way of a good evening. Then he stood and looked at himself, contemplating whether or not to shave. Normally he had too for the play, but the stubble he’d grown overnight gave him a slightly more dangerous look that he liked. He left it, and then ran his fingers through his hair, finger combing it which was really all his naturally curly mane could cope with. Anything more vigorous and he’d look like a poodle.

When he got out the bathroom, he heard Cilla in the kitchen talking to Andreas. He padded in, holding his towel around her waist. She saw him and waved a bag triumphantly in his direction.

‘Got them.’ she said and then came over, grabbing his arm and almost making him drop his towel. ‘Now let’s go get you dressed.’

At seven Ross got ready to leave, dressed in his black jeans, a black vest under his new shirt and his new boots. Cilla had come in earlier with a bottle of product that she’d used to tame his curls into some semblance of neatness and he’d finished off with his signature scent. As he came out his room and walked past the kitchen he got a low whistle from both Cilla and Andreas.

‘You look good.’ Andreas said, which was the equivalent to a week’s worth of gushing from him.

‘You smell good too.’ Cilla said. ‘You are so not coming home tonight.’

‘I fucking hope not.’ Ross said, tucking the wine into his bag.

‘Just remember that if he does turn out to be an axe murderer, I told you so.’ Cilla said and Ross laughed and dropped a kiss on her black hair.

‘I will.’ he said and left. Outside, the evening light was still fairly bright and Ross made the walk back to the subway station. He went down below and studied the plan, then got on the red line to travel down to Times Square. It was still fairly busy and he got more than a few looks but they washed over him. Ross had only one person on his mind.

He changed over onto the yellow line at Times Square and then travelled own to 14th Street. To his surprise it had taken only half the time he had anticipated, but then he’d never been very good at predicting distance and time needed to travel it. He took out his phone and put the address into the GPS and followed it, his heart starting to beat faster with every step.

By the time he got to the point the GPS told him was his destination, Ross was breathing a little faster, and not as a result of physical exertion. His stomach was doing lazy back flips and he was pretty sure he was sweating buckets. He looked up at the building, a beautiful brownstone under a shady pair of trees and noted the lights in the second floor window.

This was it.

He was still half an hour early, but Ross knew that if he stood there for another thirty minutes he might not go in at all. So he climbed the stairs and stood at the glass fronted door with its fine wrought iron tracery and pressed the bell of intercom before he could change his mind. To his surprise a woman answered.

‘Hello?’ She sounded harassed. Ross was at a loss. He had no idea what his mystery man’s name was.

‘Um, yeah hello.’ he said, stumbling over his words a little. ‘I’m not sure I have the right place. I…’

‘Are you looking for Jim?’ the woman cut in, sounding frustrated like Ross was interrupting an extremely important part of her evening. The question caught Ross off guard.

‘I’m sorry?’ he asked and the woman huffed.

‘Jim Hawkins?’ she said. ‘If you’re looking for him, he’s in Flat 2. The buzzer is on the other side of the door.’ Ross was silent.

_Jim Hawkins._

Mystery man now had a name. And Ross found that he liked it. Very much.

‘Thank you.’ he said, cutting her off. He moved to the other side of the door. There was another buzzer there, half hidden in the ivy that covered the front of the building. Ross drew in a deep breath.

Then he pressed the buzzer and waited. There was no reply and his stomach did another turn over. Then the front door buzzed and clicked open. Ross stared stupidly at it for a moment and then opened it and went inside. The front lobby was tiny, just two doors and a Victorian tiled floor in bright colours which drew his attention immediately.

Then he noticed that one of the doors was open.

Ross’ eyes lifted from the tiled floor and saw him. It was almost enough to make his heart stop beating altogether. In the bright light of the hallway, the man he now knew went by the name of Jim Hawkins was nothing but shades of light. He was barefoot, one foot crossed over the other, in blue jeans that were just the right kind of faded, the kind that spoke of bright sunlight and salt and overuse, and a pristine white cotton shirt worn loose over it. In this light, Ross could see that Jim was tanned, that his hair was lighter than he’d thought it was and it shone like bright burnished gold. There was a simple stainless steel diver’s watch on his left wrist, the same one Ross thought he’d been wearing at the party, and as he approached he saw that the dancing eyes were blue, a perfect shifting blue that reminded him of sea water. How had he not thought this man was attractive when he’d first seen him?

Their eyes met and Jim smiled and it was blinding, perfect white teeth and deep dimples that Ross had glimpsed two nights before.

‘Hi.’ Jim said, and Ross felt his heart skitter and jump in his chest.

‘Hi.’ he said back.

‘You’re early.’ Jim said. Ross felt a crushing insecurity, like he hadn’t felt since he was an awkward teenager.

‘Sorry.’ he said. ‘I can come back later.’ He started to turn to the door when Jim laughed, the bridge of his nose crinkling in the most delightful way. It filled Ross’ ears like music and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that before the night was over he would be a slave to that laugh.

‘It’s fine.’ Jim said and stood aside to let Ross enter. ‘I like that you’re early.’ Ross walked past him into a hallway with a staircase with an ornate iron balustrade and a doorway off the left. And as he did he caught the smell that had enticed him the night Jim had knelt next to him and cut out a man’s eyes. The eyes that he’d hurriedly stuck in the jar with the others. It was stronger tonight, spicier and more like incense. It made Ross’ senses flare. He stood waiting as Jim closed the front door and moved past him through the doorway and then followed.

What he saw surprised him. Ross hadn’t been sure what he’d been expecting, but the room he found himself in was elegant, yet simple. The floorboards were scarred and stained but polished, their deep patina complimented by the worn leather sofa with a couple of tartan blankets folded and thrown over the back and an old travelling trunk Jim was using as a coffee table. The only other furniture were two massive bookshelves against the far wall that flanked the fireplace. The number of volumes they held was impressive.

The room was open plan and a step up separated the living area from the kitchen with its white cupboards and black granite worktops. There was a kitchen island and a plain scrubbed pine table with four mismatched chairs around it to one side and a huge stainless steel fridge/freezer on the other side. It had a glass door with a blue light in it and Ross remembered vaguely that those were supposed to be ridiculously expensive.

‘Nice place.’ he said and Jim move past him on silent feet.

‘Thank you.’ he replied, going into the kitchen, and Ross took his bag off over his head. He followed Jim and opened his bag when he got to the island, taking out the two bottles of wine and handing putting them down. Jim watched him.

‘I didn’t know what we were having so I catered for both.’ Ross said by way of explanation. There was a wooden bowl of pomegranates in the counter, a splash of vivid colour against the black. He waited a beat before saying. ‘So your name’s Jim?’ That got him a pleased smile.

‘Good boy.’ Jim said and the approval in his voice sent Ross’ pulse into overdrive. ‘How did you find out?’

‘Rang the wrong buzzer.’ Ross said. He looked up at the hand blown glass chandelier above his head in the kitchen and his eyes widened slightly. ‘Is that Murano?’

‘Yes, it is.’ Jim said turning to the fridge. ‘You want a drink?’

‘Please.’ Ross answered still looking at the intricate twirls of glass. ‘It’s beautiful. Where’d you get it?’

‘Italy.’ Jim said and Ross turned to see him holding out an open beer. He took it and sipped. It was cold and it was just what his dry mouth needed. ‘I saw it in the factory and bought it. It was a bitch to install.’ He took a sip of his own beer. ‘You been?’

‘Yeah.’ Ross said. ‘Quite a few times.’ He looked around the room again, his eyes starting to pick up details. There was a canvas over the kitchen table which depicted a moody beach and the sea and sky beyond in tones of stormy blues, greys and neutrals. He went over, noting the fine brushwork.

‘It’s a Macfayden.’ Jim said coming up behind him. ‘Do you like art?’

‘I do but I’m not exactly educated.’ Ross replied. ‘There’s not much call for it in the performing arts.’ He sipped and hedged his bets. ‘What did you think of the play?’

‘I think you’re by far the best and most interesting thing in it.’ Jim said, moving a step closer and Ross caught his smell again. He turned and looked into eyes that now matched the stormy blue of the painting. Jim was half a head shorter than him, he noted, but the energy buzzing around him made Ross feel almost like he was the prey in their little dance.

It was wonderfully exciting.

Their eyes locked and Ross felt like he was suddenly in freefall, unable to control his descent into whatever the fuck this was. But then just as the tension grew to fever point, Jim broke the look and stepped back to move into the kitchen area.

‘I haven’t quite finished prepping dinner.’ he said. ‘You’ve kind of caught me off guard.’

‘Why do I get the feeling that that would be impossible to do?’ Ross said, the words coming out of his mouth before he even had a chance to think. He got a sudden flash of blue eyes and a smile that was distinctly more predatory.

‘You’re right.’ Jim said. ‘It is.’ The smile broadened. ‘What I meant was I still have some things to do.’

‘So do them.’ Ross said, emboldened by the look he was getting. Their eyes locked again, but this time he gave as good as he got. Jim raised one gold eyebrow.

‘You…’ he said trailing off. The way he said it was speculative and Ross chanced a brilliant smile, feeling completely gratified at the almost imperceptible hitch in Jim’s breathing that it got.

‘Me.’ he replied. Jim shook his head once and turned away. Ross came around the other side of the island, hand trailing along the granite. It was cold under his fingers. He came to stop opposite Jim and rested his beer on the counter. ‘So, what are you feeding me tonight?’

‘You’ll see.’ Jim said. He went to the fridge, opening it again and coming back with two shallots. He reached for a wooden chopping board that was on the counter behind him and then took down a knife from the magnetic strip affixed to the wall above it. Ross watched as he washed his hands at the sink and dried them on a dishcloth. Jim’s sleeves were rolled up on his forearms which showed defined muscles and a coating of fine golden hairs. The knife was small one with a curved blade and he watched fascinated as Jim picked up one shallot and peeled it expertly. The movements of his hand brought back the way he’d slit the man’s throat and Ross felt himself start to involuntarily harden behind the counter.

He needed to get himself under control.

‘Can I use your bathroom?’ he asked, a little abruptly and a lovely line appeared between Jim’s eyebrows as he frowned.

‘Sure.’ he replied. ‘It’s past the stairs and on your right.’

‘Thanks.’ Ross said and all but ran out the kitchen and into the hallway. He found the cloakroom and locked himself in then splashed water on his face and leaned against the door, trying to will his now raging erection into submission. ‘Fuck, fuck fuck…’ he hissed, taking deep breaths and fighting to calm himself down.

********

Jim waited until he hear the bathroom door close before he let out the deep breath he’d been holding. This was so much fucking harder than he’d thought it would be. He hadn’t expected just how severe his reaction to Ross would be. But when the front door of the building had opened and Ross had come in, an absolute vision in tight black skinny jeans and a fucking replacement pair of those damn boots and a grey denim shirt that showed off his impossibly broad shoulders and those tight biceps and that hair everywhere, and oh God he’d smelled so fucking good when he’d walked past Jim and it was really fucking hard to not just go around the island and kiss the fuck out of him.

To distract himself, he looked at the wine Ross had brought and was very pleased to see that both bottles were exceptional without being flashy. He put the white in the fridge and took the red wine vinegar out of the cupboard nest to the cooker. He was busy cutting up the second shallot when he heard Ross open the bathroom door and then the sound of his footsteps as he came back into the room. He came back up to the counter and yes, Jim’s suspicions were confirmed when he looked at him and smiled. The front top two incisors were slightly slanted in towards each other, the crooked teeth giving that brilliant smile a sweet hint of imperfection. That and the fact that his eyes had turned out to be a deep dreamy hazel, flecked with emerald and gold and lined with lashes that were almost too thick to be real, would be enough to fuel Jim’s sexual fantasies for an age to come.

If you’d pardon the expression.

*******

Ross took a deep breath when Jim turned to wash to get a small bowl from a cupboard. He came back and scraped the chopped shallots into it and then added red wine vinegar from the bottle next to the chopping board.

‘Oysters?’ he asked and Jim nodded.

‘I probably should have gone with something safer.’ he said and Ross shook his head, draining the last of his beer.

‘I like oysters.’ he said. ‘Especially with Mignonette. If I had known I would have gone with white Burgundy.’

‘What you bought is great.’ Jim said. ‘I prefer Sauvignon Blanc anyway. But yours is still a bit warm, so…’ he went to the fridge and brought out another bottle and passed it to Ross. Ross read the label and nodded approvingly.

‘I don’t know very much about new world wines.’ he admitted and Jim shrugged. He took a corkscrew out of a drawer next to him and handed it to Ross. Ross took it and started to open the wine. Jim watched him carefully, but Ross was good at this. Christ knew he’d opened enough bottles for Mathilde. He got the cork out smoothly and placed the opener on the counter. ‘Glasses?’

‘Cupboard next to you on the bottom.’ Jim replied. He was back at the fridge and came out with two glass plates piled with oysters till in their shells. He carried them over to the table and went back. Ross found the glasses and brought two over to the table with the bottle of wine. Jim came round to the side adjacent to him, two white linen napkins draped over one arm and an oyster knife and the bowl of Mignonette in his hands. There was another wooden board under his other arm.

Ross reached for the bowl and the board, and their fingers brushed as he took it from Jim. This time, there were no latex gloves between them, and the electricity crackled as they made contact. Ross withdrew quickly, placing the bowl and board on the table between them. To hide his feelings, he ducked his head and looked at the oysters on his plate.

‘They’re closed.’ he said and Jim huffed a soft laugh.

‘That’s what this is for.’ he said, brandishing the oyster knife.

‘I don’t actually know how to use that.’ Ross said, staring at it. ‘I’m kind of used to the prepared version.’

‘Oh?’ Jim smiled. ‘In that case...’ he handed Ross one napkin before smoothing his own over his lap. Ross followed suit and watched in fascination as Jim picked up an oyster in his left hand. He fixed Ross with his clear blue eyes. Ross looked back and noticed for the first time that Jim had the lightest sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose and under his eyes. ‘Want me to teach you?’

‘Maybe a demonstration first.’ Ross replied. He could feel his breathing getting shorter. Jim smiled. He turned the oyster, getting a good grip on it then drove the knife into the hinged part at the end. Ross watched as Jim gave it a sharp twist and the oyster gave to the pressure. Jim took the top shell off, laying it aside on the board. Then he used the knife to loosen the oyster and finally placed the knife down and held it out to Ross.

It was like a votive offering, a gift. Ross hesitated a moment before reaching out to take it. There was a flash of heat in Jim’s eyes as their fingers brushed again, and Ross felt an answering flash of heat in his chest. He spooned Mignonette into it and threw it back. It was wonderful, a rich salty creaminess that reminded him of semen and salt marshes. Jim watched him intently. Ross put the empty shell on the board and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. There was a tiny sharp intake of breath from Jim and Ross very deliberately locked eyes with him.

‘They’re good.’ he said. It was perfectly clear now that whatever he did, or whatever he said, nothing was going to convince his brain that his body wasn’t overwhelmingly turned on by what was happening, so he might as well go with it. He brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them off one by one.

‘I’m glad you like them.’ Jim’s eyes didn’t leave him for a second. He picked up the knife and then got to work.

If Ross thought he was getting turned on before, that was nothing compared to what he felt as Jim cracked open the oysters quickly and efficiently, dextrously handling the knife as if it was an extension of his arm. Ross watched, utterly spellbound. He fed them to Ross one by one, alternating with his own. Each time they set one shell down they looked at each other, the tension building between them. Ross was actually very pleased when they finished. Jim got up, clearing the dishes away. Ross watched him, drinking his wine.

‘Where did you learn how to do that?’ he asked and Jim smiled again.

‘My foster-father taught me.’ he said. ‘My parents died when I was ten and I went to live with him in the Bahamas. He used to be a chef.’ He looked at Ross. ‘Who taught you how to eat them?’

‘My great-aunt.’ Ross replied. ‘I lived with her in Normandy for four years after I finished school.’

‘That explains the French.’ Jim said with a grin. It took a moment for that to register with Ross.

‘So, that was you in the bar.’ he said. ‘Exactly how long have you been following me?’

‘Since Christian.’ Jim said. He was back in the fridge.

‘Why?’ Ross asked, reaching for the wine bottle and topping up their glasses, emptying the bottle in the process.

‘Honestly?’ Jim said, coming out of the fridge with a parcel wrapped in brown paper. ‘I haven’t got a fucking clue. You’re not what I go for.’

‘If it’s any consolation you’re not what I go for either.’ Ross replied. ‘It’s just that…’ he trailed off and Jim nodded.

‘Yeah, that.’ he said. He unwrapped the parcel. ‘I got rib-eyes for dinner. How do you want yours?’

‘Walk it through a warm room and give it to me’ Ross said and then realised the double entendre in those final words. He felt his face heat up. The wine was definitely having an effect.

‘French influence?’ Jim said with a crooked grin and Ross bit the inside of his cheek to keep the noise he wanted to make inside.

‘Something like that.’ he said.

‘Or something else I wonder.’ Jim mused. ‘You are a predator after all.’

‘So are you.’ Ross said, aware of how his voice was shaking. Jim was busy trimming the steaks but he stopped as Ross said those words. It was a moment before he started again.

‘Yes I am.’ he said. ‘The question is how did we get here?’ He looked at Ross and this time the blue eyes were unreadable.

‘How much do you want to know?’ Ross asked. His heart was beating so hard it felt like it would jump right out of his chest.

‘Why here?’ Jim said, putting the knife down. ‘Why New York?’

‘I was looking for someone.’ Ross replied. ‘There’s someone here that I’ve been chasing for a very long time.’ Jim reached for one of the pans hanging overhead and placed it on the cooker, lighting the flame underneath. He went to the fridge for butter, chucking a substantial amount in the pan before seasoning the steaks.

‘And does this someone have a name?’ he asked. Ross took a deep breath. He had come this far.

‘The Writer.’ he said. Jim stopped mid-stride. He looked at Ross with a broad smile.

‘That show-off?’ he asked, amusement colouring his voice. Ross was a little taken aback.

‘He’s not a show-off. He’s a visionary.’ he said defensively.

‘That’s why you take the eyes.’ Jim said as if he’d just had an epiphany. ‘It’s like an homage to his work.’ There was a hiss as the steaks went into the hot pan. The smell was glorious. He bent down and opened the oven and took out tray with two baked potatoes on it. ‘Tell me why you find him so interesting.’ He put the tray on the counter and then brought two fresh glasses, the opener and the bottle of red to the table. He handed the opener to Ross and left him to open and pour the wine.

‘Because what he does is art.’ Ross replied, a little sharply if he was being honest, hacking away at the foil. ‘It’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.’ He ground the corkscrew in, his annoyance that Jim was treating this most revered of subjects so lightly being translated into the almost brutal way he wrestled the cork out. He looked up to see Jim looking at him with a clearly amused smile.

‘It almost got him caught.’ he said. ‘It was risky and stupid.’ He flipped the steaks and turned off the stove and then spent a few minutes dressing the plates before putting a steak on each one. ‘Art or not, it means nothing if you get caught.’ He brought the plates to the table, placing one in front of Ross and one for himself. Ross saw that he’d added sour cream and chives to the potatoes and that the steak was perfectly caramelised on the outside. Suddenly he was ravenously hungry. It wasn’t every day that someone so competent cooked for him. He picked up his knife and fork and cut into the steak, seeing that is was perfectly blue inside. He rested his knife against the centre and then held it to his lower lip, testing the temperature as Mathilde had taught him. Jim watched him over the rim of his wine glass. Ross took a bite and almost moaned aloud at how good it was. Jim nodded his approval and started eating as well. There were a few moments of silence and then Ross reached for his glass, the richness of the Cabernet matching the richness of the food perfectly, the savoury blue cheese and berry undertones melding together seamlessly.

‘It doesn’t matter.’ he finally protested once he had collected his thoughts. ‘That was the purest form of expression I have ever seen. I want to know what it means, what he was thinking about when he did it. Why he stopped.’

‘He didn’t stop.’ Jim said in an off-hand way and something in those words made Ross’ ears prick up. ‘He just got more careful.’ He cut into his steak neatly and then looked pointedly at Ross’ plate. ‘Well? I’m assuming you like it.’ Ross, however, was lost in what Jim had just said. His thoughts were dropping into place slowly, like pebbles into a pond.

Then it hit him.

He looked at Jim, who was placidly eating, and his eyes widened.

_It couldn’t be._

Jim looked up at him and smiled.

‘Eat.’ he said. Ross slowly continued eating, turning his attention to the potato which was perfectly crunchy on the outside and fluffy on the inside. They ate in silence for a few more minutes until Ross couldn’t contain himself anymore.

‘How did he choose them?’ he asked. Jim reached for his wine and drank. He put the glass down and looked at Ross.

‘Randomly.’ he said. ‘Some were small infringements, some were professional contacts. The Writer’s been killing for a very long time, since he was a teenager.’ There was a flash of white teeth.

‘And the stars?’ Ross asked ‘Why them?’

‘Because he loves to look at them.’ Jim replied. ‘They’re how he first learned to navigate a boat. They fascinate him.’

‘And the writing?’ Ross was almost shuddering at each revelation. Any thought he’d had of controlling himself had gone south as he realised just who he was eating dinner with.

‘Look around.’ Jim said with a half-smile. ‘The answer to that should be self-evident. He likes to read.’ He sat back in his chair. ‘My turn now.’

‘I told you, you could ask anything.’ Ross reminded him.

‘How long?’ Jim asked. ‘And where. You haven’t been in New York very long, based on your complete inability to clean up after yourself. The cops would have caught you.’

‘Since I was seventeen and in France mostly.’ Ross replied. ‘And I don’t clean up very well because no-one’s taught me how to.’

‘Self-taught.’ Jim said. ‘I like that.’ He leaned forward again, continuing his meal. ‘You are rather unorthodox.’

‘I’m trying to decide if that’s a compliment or an insult.’ Ross said. He glanced down at his plate sadly as he realised he’d cleaned it. He was a quick eater.

‘You wouldn’t be here if it was an insult.’ Jim said. ‘I would have killed you and left you there with him.’ He grinned suddenly, and a teasing note crept into his voice. ‘I still might.’ That declaration should have made Ross get up and leave right there. All it did was cement him in place, pinned by those intense blue eyes with their laser focus. He realised that they were at an important junction.

‘So what’s stopping you?’ he asked and Jim chuckled. It was low and sexy and it made Ross get hard under the table.

‘At this point, professional curiosity.’ Jim said. ‘Also I want to see if you’re as good with that gorgeous mouth as I think you are.’ He said this staring directly at Ross, and the sexual implications shimmered and danced between them. ‘And because now I am intrigued as to why you followed the Writer to New York?’

Ross looked into those deep blue eyes and felt himself get lost in them.

‘Because I want to be with him.’ he said and Jim let out a soft gasp, so quick as to be involuntary.

‘Ross…’ he breathed and Ross wanted to close his eyes at the heat in Jim’s voice, to wallow in it. But he was held in place, the feelings that raged through him taking control of him and making him powerless to move.

‘Jim…’ he replied, just as breathless.

Then the dam broke.

Ross wasn’t sure who moved first, but they were on their feet. Jim practically threw him up against the wall, crowding into Ross’ space, hands at his waist to hold him there. Ross breathed in hard through his nose at the pain in his bruised sides, but he didn’t care. He fought back, his own hand going to the back of Jim’s neck to hold him in place, the other flat against Jim’s chest. Jim pinned him against the wall and looked steadily at him, before closing the distance between them. The kiss was brutal, not an ounce of gentleness in it as Jim forced Ross’ mouth open. Ross struggled for a few seconds, his feelings overwhelming him as he tried to make sense of what was happening. But then he felt the first touch of Jim’s tongue against his and it was game over. He kissed back with everything he had, their teeth clashing and the sudden coppery taste in his mouth taking everything up one step. Jim moaned softly into his mouth and thrust up against him, and Ross could feel that he was just as hard. He tightened his fingers in the thick hair at the back of Jim’s head, pulling him in deeper, opening his mouth more and throwing caution to the wind as he thrust back. It went on for an age until Jim suddenly shoved Ross back against the wall, breaking the kiss. He was breathing heavily.

‘Jesus Christ.’ he muttered, still holding Ross flush against the wall with his body. ‘This is fucking insane.’

‘What?’ Ross panted back.

‘This.’ Jim said, leaning in to rest his nose against Ross’ face. ‘How much I want to fuck you.’ Ross heard him say the words and whined. He was so hard now, so beyond the point of control that he couldn’t even understand how he was still standing. He moved, chasing Jim’s mouth until he could kiss him again, melting under his touch. It was softer this time, more exploratory, and Ross let the heat flow through him. It was so good, the way they moved against each other and then he felt Jim’s one hand on his belt buckle and the it slipped lower and then…

Ross couldn’t stop it, even though he tried. It snuck up on him and hit him in the head and cock and made him see stars, it was so strong. He arched up into Jim’s hand, his eyes closed and his mouth opened as he cried out.

Ross was so embarrassed he wanted to fall through the damn floor.

He waited until the aftershocks had calmed before he even contemplated opening his eyes. Even then he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

‘Christ.’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘I am so fucking sorry.’

‘Don’t be.’ Jim said and Ross felt him lean in and drop a soft kiss on his collar bone where it was exposed by his shirt. ‘I’m taking it as a very serious compliment.’ He stroked Ross’ curls out of his eyes. ‘Look at me, Ross.’

Ross steeled himself and opened his eyes. Jim was beautifully flushed, the colour high in his cheeks and his eyes bright. His mouth was kiss bitten and Ross found himself wanting to suck on that full lower lip.

‘This never normally happens to me.’ he said and Jim burst out laughing. Ross’ original assessment that he would be in thrall to that laugh hadn’t changed one bit. Laughing lit up Jim’s whole face and made his dimples cave in.

‘Go clean up.’ he said, pushing himself away from Ross. ‘You can use my room. Upstairs.’ Ross straightened up and left the kitchen. He got to the stairs and looked up into the darkness at the top.

Jim’s room.

It took only a second for curiosity to overtake embarrassment and he bounded up the stairs two at a time.

*********

In the kitchen Jim listened to Ross go upstairs. He went to the table, leaning back against it as he fought for breath. He was still hard.

This was so crazy, it made no sense at all.

But it also felt like the only thing that had ever made sense to him.

Jim looked up at the ceiling. He normally had so much self-control that this burning need in his heart and body was foreign to the point that he had no idea what to do with it. So he did the only thing he could do. He left the kitchen, completely disregarding the plates and glasses on the table, walking out and into the hall. He followed up the stairs, wincing a little at walking in the uncomfortable state he found himself in.

At the top of the stairs he saw that his bedroom light was on and walked to the doorway, looking in. Ross was at his bed, digging in his open messenger bag with an annoyed look on his face. He looked up at Jim and gave him a sheepish smile.

‘Thought I had clean underwear in here.’ he said. Jim raised an eyebrow and smiled.

‘Do you always bring clean underwear to dinner?’ he asked. He came into the room. In the softer light of the bedroom, Ross looked like a Botticelli angel with his dark curls tousled and his lips swollen from kissing. His eyes were dark, the hazel changed to black. He looked at Jim and smiled and that beautiful mobile mouth gave Jim the worst ideas of what to do with it.

‘Only when I am hoping to get fucked.’ he replied, and there was a hint of cockiness that made Jim’s cock pay very close attention indeed.

’You do that a lot, don’t you.’ he said. ‘Get fucked.’ The moment the words left his mouth he cursed them. He didn’t do jealousy. Or, at least he hadn’t before he met Ross.

‘I like sex.’ Ross said, unapologetic. ‘But if you were the one fucking me, I wouldn’t need anyone else.’ He seemed to say the words without thinking and then the most adorable startled look crossed his face, his dark eyes going wide.

The effect on Jim was unexpected. He had never thought that Ross might return his feelings.

At first he was speechless. Then his body responded.

His brain was still trying to catch up when Jim charged over to the bed and grabbed Ross by his dark hair and kissed him hard enough to bruise. Ross’ mouth was soft and warm and Jim just wanted to own it, to bite at his lips and suck the blood off them. He did just that, expecting Ross to pull away when he bit too hard and drew blood. He didn’t expect Ross to moan like he was dying and open his mouth even wider, his tongue chasing Jim’s. They broke apart and Jim lost all control when he saw the beaded blood on Ross’ lower lip, tiny ruby jewels that beckoned to him to lick them off. He grabbed Ross by the front of the shirt and yanked him down to him, his tongue flicking out and catching them off Ross’ lip. They tasted salty and metallic and Jim felt like they were burning his mouth.

He used his impressive upper body strength to practically lift Ross off his feet, shoving him onto the bed so hard Ross actually bounced. He ended up lying diagonally across the pillows, his startled expression progressing quickly to confusion. It set Jim’s nerve endings alight, and he climbed on top of him. Ross made a soft noise of either protest or encouragement, Jim wasn’t sure which. He raised both hands as if to fend Jim off, and Jim grabbed the slender wrists in both hands, pinning Ross’ arms to the bed. He moved him up, dragging Ross so that he was lying straight out, head on the pillows. Ross was panting underneath him, his dark eyes looking up at Jim, his lips slightly parted. Jim bent his head and kissed him again, hard and desperate. Ross responded and arched up against him, already hard again. Jim pulled back and then moved so he was kneeling over Ross’ shoulders.

‘You have a safe signal?’ he asked and Ross blinked stupidly at him.

‘What?’ he asked, his voice rough.

‘A safe signal.’ Jim said, moving so he could undo his belt. ‘If you want me to stop.’

‘Why would I want you to stop?’ Ross asked, sounding bemused. Then he saw what Jim was doing. ‘Oh fuck…’

‘Precisely.’ Jim said, his need making him curt. ‘If it gets too much, two knocks on the headboard. Got it?’ Ross raised his eyes to the carved wooden headboard of Jim’s bed and nodded.

‘Got it.’ he managed to say.

‘Good.’ Jim said, opening his jeans and shoving at them enough to get his cock out. It was hard, the head shiny with pre-come. If he thought Ross’ eyes were wide before, he was at full fucking startled faun when he saw it.

‘Holy fuck.’ he breathed, reverence in every syllable. ‘You’re fucking huge.’ Jim laughed and wasted no time in reaching down and pulling Ross mouth open and shoving his cock in.

The heat of Ross’ mouth almost undid him right then. Jim pushed in with no regard and Ross made a choking sound as his gag reflex kicked in. That gave Jim pause and he started to back off, when Ross threw out both hands and grabbed Jim by the hips and pulled him back. His dark eyes locked with Jim’s and that was all it took for Jim to lose it. He reached down, grabbing a handful of curls and bracing himself against the headboard with his other hand, driving down into Ross’ mouth, his hips setting a punishing pace.

Ross moaned loudly, shamelessly, and opened his mouth wide to take him. His fingers dug into Jim’s hips under the white shirt, pulling him closer and closer.

‘Fuck, yes…’ Jim moaned with him. ‘Fuck…’ He was lost, intoxicated with the feel of Ross’ mouth around his cock, sucking hard with every pull out and relaxing to let Jim drive back in. He could feel sweat running down from his neck, between his shoulder blades and collecting at the small of his back. Below him, Ross was making desperate noises, tears tracking down his face from having Jim’s cock so far down his throat.

But he didn’t knock.

Instead Jim felt Ross’ hands sliding down the back of his jeans, the sweat collected at the base of his spine making the passage slick. The fingers of one hand dug into his backside hard enough to leave bruises and the fingers of the other slipped in, the pad of Ross’ middle finger rubbing over his entrance. It sent heat flaring through Jim, a chain reaction of every cell in his body.

‘Oh God…’ he cried, his hips starting to lose their rhythm. ‘Jesus Christ, Ross…’ Ross moaned in reply and then Jim felt the tip of Ross’ finger breach him, pushing in as far as it could go. He hit the edge, his back arching into a graceful curve that drove his cock in as far as it could go into Ross’ mouth, an inarticulate cry ripped from him as he came uncontrollably down Ross’ throat.

He half expected for Ross to cough and shove him off, but instead he went with it, his eyes locked with Jim’s as he swallowed it all down, the sight of his throat working giving Jim’s aftershocks the most delicious frisson.

He finally stilled, moving back to slide his softened cock out of Ross’ mouth. Ross also moved, his hands leaving Jim’s backside and moving back up to his waist. But he didn’t let him go. Instead he looked up steadily at him. Jim leaned heavily on the headboard and pushed Ross’s hair out of his eyes with his other hand.

‘That was incredible.’ he breathed. ‘Did I hurt you?’

‘No.’ Ross rasped back. ‘And even if you did I wouldn’t care. I want you to do everything to me.’ His smile was dreamy. ‘Anything you want you can do. Fuck my mouth, fuck my arse…anything.’ His chest was heaving and Jim couldn’t resist placing his palm over Ross’ heart. He felt it thumping hard and fast and the sense of wonder that filled him was so new, so searing that it made Jim even more breathless than he already was.

‘What do you want me to do to you?’ he asked and Ross smiled, the crooked teeth at the front making Jim’s heart skip a beat.

‘Fuck me.’ he said. ‘Fuck me and make me come with you inside me.’ He reached up for Jim and Jim moved back to straddle Ross’ hips, bending down so they could kiss. Jim tasted himself in Ross’ mouth, acrid and bitter and so arousing that his cock twitched in interest. He sat back up, holding out his hands. Ross hesitated a moment and then took them, letting Jim pull him up into a sitting position. Jim smiled at him, hands at the studs on Ross’ shirt, popping them one by one until he could push the shirt off Ross’ shoulders. The skin was wonderfully smooth under his fingers and Jim dipped his head, kissing each shoulder. Ross laughed softly and raised his arms obediently when Jim tugged at his vest, pulling it up and over Ross’ head.

‘Jesus,’ he said when it came off and he could get his first look at Ross’ body. ‘You are so fucking beautiful.’ Ross’ eyes shone at his praise. He leaned into Jim, mouth searching for his and Jim obliged by kissing him gently, lips lingering and tongues brushing softly. It was deep and intimate and Ross put both hands on his backside, squeezing and thrusting up into him. Jim ran his fingers through the thick pelt of black hair on Ross’ chest, fingers tracing over dusky pink nipples, pinching just hard enough to get a moan, swallowing it and then pulling back from Ross’ mouth to kiss along his stubbled jaw, the roughness of it making his lips burn. He got to the juncture of his jaw and bit down and Ross threw his head back, gasping. Jim smiled against his neck, and kept going as he dropped kiss after kiss down Ross’ neck. Ross kept moving, slow rolls of his hips underneath him, his fingers digging in a little harder.

‘Fuck me…’ he breathed, his voice almost a whisper. ‘Fuck me, Jim.’ Jim sat up, then placed both hands flat to Ross’ chest and pushed him back down. He was getting hard again, his cock filling as he dragged his fingers down Ross’ chest.

‘Give me a minute.’ he said and got off of him. Ross watched him, one hand now rubbing his cock through his jeans. Jim nodded to them.

‘Take your clothes off.’ he said and Ross grinned and then sat up, lifting one leg towards himself to untie the laces of his boot. He got it off and chucked it on the floor then did the other. While he was busy Jim went to his bedside drawer, opening it and taking out a condom and the tube of lube. When he turned back, his stomach lurched. Ross was now lying back on the bed, naked. He was a series of elegant angular lines, his olive skin mottled with bruises from his struggle with the rapist two nights previously. The hair on his chest continued down his flat belly to where it thickened around his cock. There was a tattoo of a black star next to his left hip in addition to the one on his wrist. His arms and legs were muscular yet slender. Jim walked over to him, chucking the condom and lube on the bed next to him and then letting his fingers drift over Ross’ stomach.

‘I’m going to fucking break you.’ he said. The smile he got was now very distinctly cocky.

‘I hope so.’ Ross replied. ‘I like it hard.’

‘Just hard?’ Jim asked teasingly, pulling his own shirt over his head and noting how Ross licked his lips as his eyes ran over Jim’s half naked body.

‘And deep.’ he replied, his hand drifting down his own body to wrap long fingers around his own cock, stroking lightly. ‘I want you all the way in.’

‘Fuck.’ Jim said, his tone flat with barely repressed lust. ‘Turn over.’ Ross’ eyes lit up and he obediently rolled onto his stomach, parting his legs invitingly as he braced himself on his elbows. Jim’s breath caught as he looked at him, the soft hair carried over Ross’ backside and the backs of his thighs. He walked to the bottom of the bed and reached down, stroking into the crease and feeling the softness of Ross’ skin there. He looked up and saw Ross half looking at him over his shoulder. Jim smiled and got to his knees on the bed, then dipped his head and breathed in the thick earthy scent of Ross’ skin at the small of his back. He kissed him, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt of Ross’ sweat. Ross gave a breathy moan and bowed his head, the dark curls concealing his face like a curtain.

Jim went a touch lower, pulling Ross open with his fingers before licking once over his entrance, flat and slow. The taste of sweat and pheromones was intoxicating. He did it again, his tongue tracing the different textures of skin and then pushing in gently.

‘Fuck, yes…’ Ross moaned at the head of the bed. ‘Just like that…’ He pushed back into Jim’s mouth and Jim reciprocated by sucking on him hard enough to make Ross cry out, then pushed his tongue in as far as he could. Ross writhed against him. ‘Oh fuck…fuck…fuck…’ The words were interspersed with low cries and Jim picked up the pace. He licked and sucked and worked his tongue in and out of Ross until Ross was thrusting down into the bed, his fingers gripping the pillow so hard his knuckles were white. His own cock was hard again and all Jim wanted was to bury himself in Ross to the hilt, fuck him until they couldn’t fuck anymore. He looked up, one hand running down Ross’ back.

‘Like this?’ he asked and Ross shook his head violently.

‘No.’ he panted. ‘I want to see you.’ Jim got back onto his knees and Ross flipped over again, his legs spread wantonly. Jim reached for the lube, using it to coat three fingers on his right hand. The first one went in easily and Ross bowed up off the bed. ‘More.’ Jim smiled and added a second one. He felt along until he found Ross’ prostate and pressed in on either side.

‘Like that?’ he asked and Ross squeezed his eyes shut, legs drawing up.

‘Yes.’ he moaned. ‘Jim…’ It was a high pitched whine and Jim’s breath caught. ‘Motherfucker, that’s so good…you’re going to make me come if you keep doing that.’

‘That’s the idea.’ Jim laughed, his blood pounding in his ears. He pulled his fingers out and then pushed in with three, pumping them hard. Ross hissed in pleasure, his head thrashing on the pillow, clutching it at like it could save him, keep him afloat.

‘Jesus, enough.’ he gritted out. ‘I want your cock in me. Now.’ Jim couldn’t help but be delighted by the snippy tone, realising that Ross was going out of his mind with want. He removed his fingers and started to reach for the condom when Ross caught his wrist. Jim looked at him in surprise. Ross shook his head.

‘Are you sure?’ Jim asked.

‘I’m clean.’ Ross replied. ‘You’ll be the first person I’ve ever fucked bareback.’ His grip tightened. ‘Please Jim. I want it. I want to feel all of you.’ The heartfelt admission tore at Jim’s heart.

‘All right.’ he said. ‘If it’s any help, I’m in the same position you are.’ Ross gave him a small smile.

‘I trust you.’ he said. Jim huffed a laugh.

‘You don’t even know me.’ he replied.

‘Yes, I do.’ Ross said. ‘I know everything I need to know about you.’ Their eyes locked. ‘Do it.’

Jim felt the surge in his chest, the blinding desire that swallowed him up as he looked at Ross. He shoved at his jeans blindly, getting them just low enough so he could grab the lube and slick himself up. Ross lay back, his arms above his head and moved so the Jim could position himself between his legs. Jim moved over him, the excess lube on his fingers leaving a shiny trail against the black bed linen. He braced himself over Ross on one hand and guided his cock into position with the other, nudging at Ross’ entrance before he pushed.

It was slow and sweet, the resistance and then the acceptance. Jim gasped as Ross’ body took him in, the tight heat so much more intense than he’d ever experienced before. He moaned loudly and felt Ross’ arms coming up to encircle his neck. He looked into the dark eyes and then Ross tilted his hips and Jim slid all the way in.

‘Oh God.’ he blurted out, all his normal composure absolutely shot to hell in the face of what was happening to him. He buried his face in Ross’ neck and thrust once. Ross moaned in reply and hiked his legs up on Jim’s hips, his heels resting on Jim’s backside. He pushed into each slow roll of Jim’s hips as if trying to get him as deep as possible, his hands splayed across Jim’s back and his nails digging in.

‘Yes.’ he breathed in Jim’s ear. ‘Fuck me like that.’ Jim licked up the side of his neck, coming up to kiss him. Ross licked into his mouth, whining softly. Jim met his tongue with his own and they let it drag out, matching the rhythm to that of their hips.

Jim shifted slightly and suddenly the strength in Ross’ arms increased exponentially, his nails now digging welts that brought tiny sparks of pain. He broke away from Jim’s mouth, crying out at each thrust.

‘Jesus, there…oh fuck, right fucking there.’ he moaned, his voice desperate. ‘Don’t fucking stop.’ Jim picked up his pace, knowing that he was hitting Ross right where he needed to.

‘Is it good?’ he panted, biting at Ross’ ear and getting his earlobe between his teeth, tonguing it in time to his thrusts.

‘So fucking good.’ Ross panted. ‘Oh fuck, I’m coming…’ He arched back hard, and Jim went deep, his hips impacting against Ross’ body. He could feel the tremors inside Ross, felt them grow in intensity until Ross shouted in his ear, dragging his nails down Jim’s back and clenching around him so strongly that it triggered Jim’s own orgasm. He came with Ross’ ear between his teeth, biting hard, and tangling his fingers in Ross’ sweat damp curls until he could stop shaking. Jim could feel the stickiness of Ross’ semen between them, smell the arousal of his body and hear nothing but their harsh breathing.

He collapsed on top of Ross, arms giving out as the wave of endorphins flooded his body. Underneath him, Ross was still. His eyes were closed and his face was wreathed in a blissed out smile.

‘Holy fuck.’ he said and Jim smiled at how wrecked he sounded. His own heart was beating so hard and so fast he was sure it wasn’t healthy in the slightest.

‘Right it’s settled.’ He laughed into Ross’ neck. ‘I’m not letting you go anywhere.’

‘Cool.’ Ross replied.

**********

The next time was harder, faster. Jim had Ross on his hands and knees, just like he’d pictured. They were facing the mirror and Ross looked up to lock eyes with Jim in its reflection.

‘Tell me about them.’ he said and Jim didn’t need to ask who he was talking about. He reached forward, fingers tangling in Ross’ hair. Ross moaned and spread his legs a little wider so Jim went deeper on the next thrust.

‘The first one was an investment banker that tried to fuck over a friend of mine.’ he said and Ross shivered. ‘I let down the tyres on his car and then happened to drive by and offer my assistance. I hit him over the head with a tyre iron. He tried to buy his way out before I slit his throat.’ Ross let out a deep moan and Jim let his hair go and ran both hands down his back to grab his hips and drive in hard.

‘More.’ Ross panted. ‘I want to hear all of it.’

Jim told him. He told him everything, every one of the seven lives he’d snuffed out to create his stargazers, how he’d killed them and why, and with each story, Ross got louder and louder until all it took was a couple of strokes to his cock and he came all over the bed.

‘You’re a fucking twisted bastard.’ Jim laughed into his back after he’d come inside him, driving deep and hard.

‘Takes one to know one, mate.’ Ross had retorted.

***********

They did it everywhere and in every conceivable position.

Jim learned that Ross was extremely skilled with both his mouth and fingers, lying on his back on the soiled sheets with Ross’ fingers inside him and Ross’ mouth around his cock. He also discovered that Ross was pretty much insatiable when it came to being fucked, and could go and go. That he was just as liable to come from being fingered as he was from being blown, that his cock was the best thing that Jim had ever tasted and that watching his own cum running out of Ross’ arse was perhaps the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

They were now collapsed on the sheets, and Jim was doing just that. He absently dragged his fingertips through the sticky line on the inside of Ross thigh and smiled. Ross was watching him and then he reached for Jim’s hand, licking the semen off his fingers.

‘Fuck.’ Jim said. ‘You are fucking unreal.’

‘I like the taste of you.’ Ross said. He had his head cushioned on his upper arm. ‘I like the way it feels inside me. I feel like you’ve imprinted yourself all over me.’

‘Does that mean I get to keep you?’ Jim said, only half joking. Ross smiled and then leaned in to kiss him, mouth soft.

‘I should fucking think so.’ he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics are from Nina Simone's I Got It Bad, And That Ain't Good.


	14. Inevitability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final part in which the boys have an epiphany.

_The morning after_

Ross woke up to the smell of bacon and the sound of David Bowie singing about girls in cinemas and smiled. He turned his head and squinted into the light that was coming from the window. His mouth was bruised, the insides of his thighs ached and every other part his body protested when he tried to move. There were very good odds that he’d be walking with a distinct limp for the foreseeable future.

Ross turned onto his back, stretched his arms above his head and smiled at the ceiling. He was deliriously happy.

He couldn’t have predicted how incredible the previous night, and most of the early morning, would be. It had been a rollercoaster of emotions and surprises and everything he’d ever dreamed of.

Everything he’d ever wanted.

‘Hey.’ A voice broke through his state of happy delirium and Ross raised his head. Jim was standing in the doorway. He was wearing a pair of black sweat pants and nothing else and Ross felt his abused cock try to get itself in the game, although Christ knew he’d probably wouldn’t be able to get it up for at least a few more hours.

Then he noticed the tray Jim held in his hands and Ross’ stomach most definitely noticed that the smell of bacon was a lot closer than it had been.

‘You made breakfast?’ he asked, battling valiantly to sit up. Jim smiled at him and came over to the bed. He waited for Ross to get comfortable and put it on the bed between them and sat down. He had clearly showered, his blond hair still slightly damp, a clean salt water smell emanating from his skin. Not that Ross would have noticed, he’d been so fast asleep. Jim’s tan ran to the skin on his chest and back and Ross did notice that the freckles on Jim’s face extended to his shoulders and saw that the tattoo he’d briefly noticed the night before, when Jim had first taken his shirt off, was actually bigger and more complicated than he’d thought. He reached out, his fingertips ghosting over the beautifully drawn compass and scattering of islands that ran across Jim’s ribs on his right side.

‘Home.’ Jim said, watching him. He was close enough for Ross to see how his eyes graduated from blue to green to grey and back again.

‘I thought you were English.’ Ross said turning his attention to the food on the tray. His stomach growled noisily. Jim had made an omelette, cheese oozing out the edges, and a stack of bacon just the right side of too crispy. There was toast and coffee and orange juice and Ross stared at it and then at him. ‘Are you fucking real?’ Jim laughed and handed him a fork.

‘I was born in England but it stopped being my home a long time ago.’ he said. ‘And yes, I am very very real.’ The laugh changed into a smirk. ‘As your arse can no doubt testify this morning. Besides, I need to make sure you keep your strength up. Can’t have you flagging half way through today.’ Ross returned the smirk at the implication in those words and started eating.

When they were done, Ross sat back in the bed and watched him take the tray downstairs over his coffee mug, grinning at the livid scratch marks on Jim’s back that he had left in the course of their nocturnal activities. The coffee was perfect, strong and full of sugar. Ross sipped and sighed, a deep feeling of contentment filling him.

He thought back to the night before. While the sex had been killer (no pun intended) and taken him to heights that were quite frankly transcendental, it was the other things that were making his stomach flutter. Like how after round four, Jim had run him a bath and then disappeared. He’d come back with what they were supposed to have for dessert and joined Ross, the two of them eating chocolate ganache and drinking beer in the bathtub. It had been delicious and Ross had cheerfully abandoned his spoon in favour of eating if off his fingers. He’d only become aware of Jim’s scrutiny when the conversation stopped and Ross had looked up to see Jim staring at him with his mouth open.

It was the first time Ross had ever been fucked in the bath. He very sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

By the time they were finally done, their bodies simply giving out from overexertion, the sun had just been starting to come up. They had been in the middle of their final time, both of them on their sides with Jim at Ross’ back, holding him close and breathing into the back of his neck. They had gone to sleep like that afterwards, snuggled up together.

It had felt so right, Ross wondered if he’d ever been happy before that moment.

He snuggled down into the pillows and wished that it could last forever.

Downstairs, Jim put the plates in the dishwasher and hummed to himself as he cleaned up the kitchen. He paid particular attention to the top of the kitchen table, the location of round six. Who would have guessed that Ross would have turned out to be so flexible or so loud, his long legs thrown over Jim’s shoulders, his head back and the most exquisite obscenities falling from his lips.

He was startled to hear the sound of a key in the door. He looked at the kitchen clock and realised that it was after twelve.

‘Shit.’ he said and started for the door but the sounds of paws skittering over floorboards as the boys ran in. They came directly to him, tails a blur, and Jim barely got past them as they pawed at his knees. Jana came into the living room from hanging up her coat. Her face was a picture of surprise when she saw him.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked indignantly. ‘You should be at work.’ Jim grinned sheepishly.

‘I may have called in sick.’ he said. Not that Emma had believed him. In fact she’d cackled for a good ten minutes, made an appalling allusion to him walking like John Wayne and told him not to come in till Wednesday so he could, quote, get it out of his system.

Jana’s face lit up.

‘He is still here?’ she asked, sounding almost enthusiastic. Jim opened his mouth to protest but it was too late. She was off, heading up the stairs with the boys in tow.

‘Fuck.’ Jim said, and followed. By the time he got to the top of the stairs, Jana was already in the bedroom looking at Ross with an actual grin on her face. Ross was doing his best defiled virgin look, sitting up in bed hiding behind the duvet with a startled expression (Jesus, and it really shouldn’t have made him look as fuckable as it did) and when Jim burst in behind her he gave him a pleading look.

‘Oh, this one is like baby antelope.’ Jana said in delight. ‘He is acceptable.’

‘I’m so fucking pleased you approve.’ Jim said, wondering if he should rescue Ross from Zeus and Apollo who had discovered that someone new was in the bed and had jumped up to sniff Ross thoroughly. He was now scratching them behind the ears, a smile on his gorgeous face. ‘Now get the fuck out.’

‘I go downstairs.’ Jana said, cackling as she left them. ‘See how many surfaces you fuck on.’ Jim glared at her retreating back.

‘I’m sorry.’ he said turning back to Ross. ‘I completely lost track of time. I shouldn’t have let them ambush you like that.’ Ross looked up from where he was cuddling the dogs and smiled brightly.

‘So this is your family?’ he asked, laughter colouring his voice.

‘Some of them.’ Jim replied. ‘That’s Zeus and Apollo. The sarky cow is Jana, my housekeeper. Who I pay far too fucking much.’ The last sentence was yelled out the bedroom door. Something in Russian came back. It did not sound complimentary.

‘Mythology or Magnum?’ Ross asked, his dark eyes sparkling. That took Jim by surprise.

‘Magnum obviously.’ he said. Ross laughed and looked down at the dogs who were lying on their backs next to him, ears spread out and twin looks of bliss on their long faces as he rubbed their bellies.

‘In that case, hello lads.’ he said to them and Jim fell a little bit in love on the spot.

Fuck, who was he trying to fool? Make that a lot in love. He watched the boys jump off the bed, their curiosity satisfied, and head out the bedroom door.

‘Jim.’ Ross said and Jim turned back to see Ross had kicked the duvet off and was lying with his legs open.

‘Fuck.’ he said. ‘What are you doing?’ He closed the door hurriedly. ‘Jana’s just downstairs.’

‘I know.’ Ross was grinning. ‘But as you so correctly pointed out, the reason you fed me was so I could keep going. I was just wondering if you were going to make good on that promise.’ He gave Jim a broad smile.

‘Are you serious?’ Jim asked, but in truth his heart rate had just jumped through the roof. He walked to the end of the bed and looked down. He had to admit that in the daylight, Ross was even better to look at. He was lean, collar bones clearly defined, the muscles of his stomach visible under the thick black hair, the defined lines of his hips. Jesus, and his cock. Long and decently thick and starting to get shiny at the head. Jim knew he was staring at it, but Ross didn’t seem to mind. Instead he reached over for the almost empty bottle of lube. Jim made a move towards him and Ross shook his head.

‘No.’ he said. ‘Watch.’ He lubed up his fingers liberally and reached down. Jim couldn’t tear his eyes away. He watched as Ross slipped one finger inside himself.

‘You’re such a fucking whore.’ he said and Ross’ dark eyes lit up. He arched up against his own hand.

‘You weren’t complaining last night.’ he said, but the words changed into a moan. ‘Fuck, I’m still full of your cum.’ He looked at Jim, his eyes darkening. ‘Take your cock out.’

‘Bossy.’ Jim said but he shoved his sweats down and did as Ross asked. He was stupidly hard already. ‘Now what.’

‘What do you think?’ Ross laughed. ‘Stick it in my arse.’ He was sweating, his olive skin gleaming.

‘What about foreplay?’ Jim asked. He watched as Ross added more lube and then shoved three fingers inside himself. The stretch was obscenely beautiful.

‘Bugger foreplay.’ he moaned. ‘Get over here.’ Jim didn’t waste any time. He shoved his sweats down and stepped out of them, getting on the bed and moving so he was lying next to Ross, then reached for his straining cock. Ross kept going, moaning loudly as Jim leaned forward and licked the head of his cock.

‘Fuck.’ he breathed. Jim moved so he could get better access and took just the head in his mouth, sucking softly. Ross locked eyes with him, and smiled. ‘Now that I fucking like.’ He bit his lower lip. ‘You have a very talented mouth.’ Jim pulled off and smiled, reaching down and pulling Ross’ fingers out and replacing them with his own. When he slid them inside he could feel the wetness.

‘Jesus, you’re right.’ he said. ‘You are full.’ Ross had his head back now, his eyes closed but he smiled.

‘Shut up.’ he said. ‘If you can speak, that means my cock isn’t in your mouth, which is completely unacceptable.’ His grumbling turned into a sharp cry as Jim deep throated him, his head going down all the way until his nosed bumped Ross’ skin. ‘Jesus fuck!’ He placed his hand on Jim’s head, grabbing at his hair. ‘Oh, fuck me.’ Jim lifted off and pulled his fingers out.

‘Get on your knees.’ he said and Ross scrambled to turn over, spreading his legs willingly. Jim pulled his hips up so Ross’ arse was in the air. He gave him a sharp slap on the backside and Ross yelped. ‘Open your legs more.’

‘Fuck.’ Ross panted into the bed. ‘I fucking love it when you’re alpha.’ He spread his knees as far as they could go and braced himself on his elbows.

‘Yeah?’ Jim used his hand to guide his cock, rubbing the head over Ross’ entrance. ‘Is that because you’re my good little bitch?’ He thrust in and Ross’ body opened up easily to take him. ‘You want me to fuck you and come in you?’

‘Yes.’ Ross moaned. ‘Jesus, yes. Come in me.’ He had one hand on his own cock now, and as Jim started moving he squeezed himself hard to slow himself down. ‘Fucking give it to me.’ Jim dug his fingers into Ross’ hips, ignoring his hiss of pain as he pressed in on the bruises he’d left there the night before. He fucked into Ross hard, and listened to Ross’ moans go up in volume and pitch until he was almost shouting. His own breathing was now just a series of harsh pants.

It was so good, the tightness the heat and the wetness all combined with Ross moaning like he was possessed. Ross, for his part was sprawled in front of him, one hand grabbing onto the bed while his other stroked his cock. Jim shifted, searching for the right angle and Ross really was shouting now as he hit it.

‘Fuck..fuck…fuck…’he intoned. ‘Fuck me, Jim. Fuck me hard.’ He arched back and Jim reached forward with one hand, pulling hard enough on Ross’ hair that Ross came, his back bowing and his cum staining the black sheet underneath him. He clenched around Jim, the rhythmic pulsing on his cock making Jim lose all control. He thrust in deep and held Ross in place while he went off inside him. He finally let Ross go and Ross all but collapsed on the bed, laughing into the pillow his face was now buried in.

‘Holy shit.’ he managed when he turned for air. ‘Where the hell did you learn to fuck like that?’ His hazel eyes were unfocused. ‘I haven’t had it this good in forever.’ Jim pulled out and lay down next to him. He was sweating like a horse and he found that he couldn’t stop fucking smiling.

‘I think it’s you.’ he said, completely honest for once in his life. ‘I have never wanted to fuck someone as much as I want to fuck you.’ That was obviously a good answer because Ross moved in and kissed him, mouth soft and tongue lazy.

‘Well.’ he said. ‘I think it’s fair to say that my arse now officially belongs to you, so you can fuck it as much as you want.’

‘Careful.’ Jim said, a flash of pure possessiveness lighting up inside him. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’ Ross looked at him carefully, as if weighing up what he’d just said. Then he leaned in and kissed Jim again. Jim kissed back and then pulled away sharply when Ross bit him hard on the lower lip, pain flaring. He pulled back, hand to his lip and his fingers were red when he took them away. He looked at Ross and saw his own blood on Ross’ mouth. Ross licked it off and gave him a very self-satisfied smirk.

‘Now I’ve marked you as well.’ he said, then reached for Jim’s hand and licked the blood off his fingers just like he’d licked Jim’s semen off the night before. ‘I may belong to you, but you also belong to me.’

It was like Jim had been punched in the face. He knew suddenly that it was true, that he’d been permanently changed in that moment. And when he kissed Ross back, all blood and teeth and tongues, it was with all the passion he could throw into one kiss.

They did not make it out the bedroom until Ross had to go to work.

They were now in the shower. It was cavernous. Jim didn’t stint on bathroom fixtures.

‘You could have a serious gangbang in here.’ Ross said thoughtfully. He was standing in front of Jim, almost purring as Jim worked shampoo through his thick dark hair.

‘That will not be happening anytime soon.’ Jim said. ‘Rinse.’ Ross tilted his head back and sighed happily as.

‘I’m going to be all fluffy now.’ he complained.

‘Well, you were welcome to go on stage like that but I think your co-workers will appreciate the lack of cum in your hair.’ Jim said, and Ross winced as his fingers got stuck on a strand that was still gummed together.

‘Well, it’s your cum so technically your fault.’ he replied. Jim laughed and smacked him on the backside. The he surprised the crap out of Ross by wrapping both arms around him and pulling him close.

‘Where the fuck did you come from, Ross Poldark?’ he said. ‘And how have you managed to fuck up my head so badly in under a month?’ The tone of his voice made Ross’ heart start to pound.

‘I don’t know.’ he replied. ‘But if it’s any consolation, I’m feeling just as fucked up right now.’ He covered Jim’s hands with his own. ‘I’ve been dreaming about you since I was a teenager. Honestly, I feel like this could all be a hallucination and that I’m going to wake up to find none of it is real.’

‘That’s not going to happen Ross.’ Jim said and kissed the back of his shoulder. ‘That I can promise you.’

After their shower Ross got dressed. Jim had given him some clean underwear and a t-shirt to wear. It was a little tight across the shoulders and Ross laughed when he saw what was on the front.

‘Seriously?’ he asked.

‘The Thunder cats were part of my formative experience.’ Jim said. ‘Mock them at your peril.’

They went downstairs, stopping to snog at intervals on the stairs. By the time they got to the front door, they were both half-hard.

‘So, I want that back. Just so you know.’ Jim said. Ross smiled at him.

‘Do you want it in person or shall I fedex it to you?’ he asked. He looked so smug that Jim had to try and kiss the smirk off his face.

‘Shit.’ he said when they separated. ‘You’re going to be so fucking bad for me. I can tell.’ Ross shrugged.

‘That’s your opinion.’ he retorted. ‘Just you wait. You’re going to be in love with me by the end of the month.’

He left Jim standing speechless as he waltzed out the front door.

*********

Six weeks later Jim was rueing the day he’d opened the door to the best and the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

His schedule was fucked up beyond recognition. He was barely getting any sleep. His apartment was a constant mess, his dogs had shamelessly switched allegiances and his housekeeper was smitten. There were cum stains all over his previously immaculate black bed sheets, the shower drain kept getting blocked up with thick dark hair and half his socks had disappeared. There was even an overflowing ashtray now permanently installed on the table on his terrace.

The worst part was that he had never been happier in his life.

It was a Saturday afternoon and Ross has left only an hour previously to go to work. He had abandoned Jim with a kiss that had far too much tongue to be suitable for one in the afternoon and strolled out looking as fresh as a daisy, a remarkable feat considering how many times he’d taken Jim’s cock up his arse the night before. Jim had a vivid flashback to Ross riding him, head back and his mouth open as he panted, remembered Ross begging him to fuck him again.

It was all he seemed to think about these days and it was fucking with his head.

He stared gloomily into the depths of his coffee and contemplated the utter fuck up that had become his life. Jana watched him from across the room as she folded laundry. There was a glimmer of a smile dancing at the corners of her habitually downturned mouth. It annoyed Jim intensely and he glared at her.

‘You look like your face is about to crack.’ he said and Jana shrugged.

‘Is my face.’ she replied. ‘Don’t look at it, if you don’t like it.’ Jim narrowed his eyes at her. Jana ignored him. She continued folding, her hand s quick and competent, and they sat in silence long enough for it to become unbearable.

‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’ Jim finally said and Jana looked up at him.

‘You want I answer or is rhetorical question?’ she said and Jim sighed heavily. She was enjoying this far too much.

‘What do you think?’ he said, but all his sarcasm had zero effect on the infuriatingly smug expression on her face.

‘I think you don’t pay me enough to answer stupid questions.’ she retorted.

‘Oh for fuck’s sake.’ Jim snapped. ‘Just answer the fucking question.’ He looked at her and Jana looked straight back.

‘I don’t think you like my answer.’ she said and Jim felt his whole body sag.

‘You think I’m in love with him, don’t you.’ he asked and Jana snorted.

‘I don’t think.’ she replied. ‘I know.’ This time the smile was a little wider. ‘This dark haired boy, he makes you crazy. You are in love with him, no question.’

‘Fuck.’ Jim said, letting his head fall to the counter. There was another snort, this time of laughter and then to his surprise he heard Jana’s footsteps and then felt her hand on his shoulder.

‘You should not be so unhappy. Is good thing.’ she said and now Jim knew if he looked up she would be smiling broadly at him and that he most definitely did not want to see.

‘That’s easy for you to say.’ he grumbled. ‘What the fuck do I do about it?’ Jana patted his shoulder in what he felt was a particularly patronising way.

‘Marry him.’ she said and Jim’s head shot up. Jana was actually honest to God grinning at him and it was easily the most disturbing thing he’d ever seen. She went back to the laundry and picked it up. ‘That way you can be crazy together.’ Then she walked out the kitchen.

‘Oh that’s just fucking great!’ Jim shouted after her. ‘Thank you very much for not fucking helping at all!’

‘You are welcome.’ she called back. ‘Now do something about it.’

***********

Later that night their now established routine kicked in. That kind of domesticity normally made Ross run a fucking mile, but what he and Jim had fallen into felt to completely natural that he had been sucked in without even realising it.

Ross left the theatre and headed downtown, getting to Jim’s apartment about twenty minutes later. He paid the cab drive and got out, heading across the sidewalk and up the stairs. He rang the buzzer and it only took a minute for the door to open. He went inside and found the front door open for him. The boys were already assembled and Ross took the time to take off his jacket and hang it and his bag up on the hooks by the door before dropping to his knees and spending an inordinate amount of time playing with them, his low laughter signalling his presence to the person in the living room. He loved it. His family had always owned dogs and Ross had missed them.

Finally satisfied, Zeus and Apollo trotted back inside and Ross followed them. He found Jim sitting on the sofa, book in hand, and leaned over to kiss him as the dogs jumped back up and settled across Jim’s legs. The kiss was lingering, and when they parted they were both smiling goofily at each other. In truth, Ross had been half expecting his obsession with Jim to wane a little but it was showing no signs of doing so. Thankfully the way Jim was looking back at him was no less than adoring.

‘Good night?’ Jim asked as Ross headed to the kitchen, opening the fridge and taking out a Corona. Jim had found out it was what he normally drank and kept a stash of them in the fridge for him. He opened it and came back to the sofa. The dogs grumbled as he shooed them to the other side and settled back against Jim, who put one arm around Ross’ neck and kissed the top of his head.

‘I’m kind of torn.’ he said. ‘I kind of wish we had another month. The right people are just starting to come in and watch.’

‘You’ll get something else.’ Jim said, a little absently. Ross has discovered that Jim was always easily sucked into books and didn’t take it personally when he didn’t pay that much attention to him.

‘I hope so.’ he replied. ‘Cilla said the landlord is putting up the fucking rent again next month.’ He sighed and nosed Jim’s arm, nibbling at the skin gently. ‘It’s even worse than Paris, I swear to fuck.’

‘You could always come and live here. Then rent really isn’t an issue and you can stop bumming money off me to buy cigarettes.’ Jim said and at first Ross thought he had misheard. He looked back at Jim, his upside down frown making him laugh.

‘Did you just say what I think you said?’ he asked, not quite able to hide his disbelief.

‘Why not?’ Jim said, putting the book down. Ross put his drink on the coffee table and sat up so they faced each other. ‘You’re here every night. I can’t remember the last time you actually slept at your place. Your fucking dirty coffee cups are all over the flat. I found a pair of your boxers in the boys’ bed yesterday. I have even bought you an ash tray.’ He grinned. ‘I think that’s a sign of serious commitment if ever I saw one.’ He looked at Ross, golden eyebrows raised and a smile on his face. ‘So what do you say? Want to move in with me?’

He made a muffled noise as Ross pounced on him, pinned him to the sofa and snogged the life out of him.

***********

‘You’ll miss us.’ Cilla wasn’t happy. Her mouth was turned down and she had cried all her mascara off. Ross had been quite surprised, considering the amount of time she had invested in trying to convince him to find someone. He wandered if she’d secretly never thought he would and that was why she’d always pushed.

He’d had to give a months’ notice at the apartment, but once he’d made the decision Ross had mentally moved out almost immediately. It wasn’t that he meant to cut people off, it just happened like that. And it wasn’t like he and Andreas had ever been close.

‘You’ll find someone else.’ he said and even he wasn’t sure whether he was talking about her or the apartment. ‘And my rent’s paid up to the end of the month so you don’t have to rush.’ Cilla’s lower lip wobbled.

‘Fuckhead.’ she said. ‘I can’t believe you’re moving in with him.’

‘Well, at least he hasn’t killed me and dumped my body in the Hudson.’ Ross said with a grin. Cilla shook her head at him. Ross wondered if he should hug her, but she hated people making a scene when she was emotional. Fortunately they were interrupted by his phone. He took it out his pocket.

‘It’s Jim.’ he said.

‘Right.’ Cilla said. ‘Guess this is it.’

‘Jesus, Cilla.’ Ross laughed. ‘I’m moving to Midtown, not fucking dying.’

‘Same fucking thing.’ she retorted and walked out the room. Ross sighed after she had left. He knew it was hard on her, but he also knew that once he walked out that door, he wouldn’t give it a second thought.

He looked around his room. It was amazing that all he owned fitted into one suitcase and a couple of black bags. Not that Ross had ever really been attached to material possessions. He was unlike his family and Mathilde in that respect, wedded to their family homes and tales of glory past. He picked up the suitcase and both bags in his other hand and walked out the room. Cilla didn’t bother to see him to the door and Ross walked out of the apartment. He went down the stairs, happily kissing the crumbling plasterwork and smell of cabbage that came from the super’s apartment goodbye forever.

Jim was waiting for him at the corner. He hopped out the truck and opened the back door of the cab and helped Ross chuck his suitcase and the two bags in. They got in and looked at each other, grinning like idiots. Jim started the car and they pulled out into traffic.

‘So.’ Jim said. ‘A couple of ground rules.’

‘We have ground rules?’ Ross asked, opening the glove compartment and rooting around for the bag of Haribo that Jim kept in there. He found it and opened it and started munching. Jim gave him a sidelong glare and then held out his hand. Ross dropped several into it and they continued.

‘Laundry day is Wednesday.’ Jim said. ‘That’s the day Jana washes clothes. However, she only washes shit that is in the laundry basket. Not what’s on the floor, not what’s on the stairs and definitely not what’s in the dogs' basket. And speaking of the boys, you are under no circumstances allowed to feed them anything that is not approved by myself or Jana. That means you can’t give them your leftover Chinese take-out. And if you take them for a walk, for fuck’s sake don’t let them pick anything up. And you empty your fucking ashtray. Every fucking day. Not when you feel like it, not when it rains and there’s fucking butts floating on my terrace. Every fucking day.’ He happened to glance at Ross and saw a look of pure adoration emanating from him. ‘And stop fucking looking at me like that.’

‘I can’t help it.’ Ross said, leaning back and licking a fizzy cola bottle like he licked Jim’s cock. It was very distracting. ‘You’re so fucking hot when you tell me what to do.’

‘Christ.’ Jim said. ‘You’re going to fuck up my life beyond repair.’

‘Is that your way of saying you love me?’ Ross asked. His dark eyes were focused on Jim, waiting.

‘Fuck.’ Jim said, not even bothering to hide how disgusted with himself he sounded. ‘And if it is?’ He looked at Ross fleetingly. ‘What then?’

‘Then I love you too.’ Ross replied and looked out the window to hide his smile.


	15. Happy Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue.

‘What are you smiling at?’ Ross asked and Jim looked away from where he’d been staring at the redwood in front of him. The trunk seemed to go on and on forever.

‘I was just thinking about the first time you told me you loved me.’ he replied. Ross snorted. 

‘Yeah, and it took six fucking months for you to say it back.’ he replied. ‘You drove me nuts. I was starting to have serious doubts about my fuckability.’ He jumped down from the earthy bank he’d been standing on. ‘These trees are fucking ridiculous.’ 

‘You wanted to see them.’ Jim pointed out. Ross came over to him, tugging on the brim of Jim’s baseball cap and leaning down under it to kiss him.

‘Well, they are incredible.’ he said. ‘Thank you, baby.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Jim replied. 

They had decided Sequoia would be their last stop. Instead of going on to San Francisco, they had decided to pick up Route 66 and head back to New York. It meant that they would get back to the city a week early, but Jim had told him they could make up for it by going down to Washington D.C. and spending a couple of days visiting the Smithsonian, which was possibly one of Ross' favourite places on Earth. 

They had heard nothing.

There had been a report of how two rangers had gone missing, their vehicle found burnt out on the shores of Lake Eleanor. But no bodies had been found and no evidence collected that could in any way shed some light on what had happened to them. 

And once again Ross had looked at his clever husband and felt incredibly proud that he had ever managed to catch his eye. 

He and Jim headed back to the truck which now boasted a cheerful ‘I hugged a Redwood!’ bumper sticker. Jim opened his door for him and just as he was about to move away, Ross grabbed the front of his plaid shirt and pulled him back, kissing him slow and deep. 

‘I love you.’ he said when they parted. Jim looked up at him, his cool blue-green eyes as still and perfect as the Caribbean Sea. 

‘And you’re still fucking up my life beyond repair.’ he replied. ‘Good thing I love you too.’


End file.
